


Punk Rock Boy

by silver_etoile



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, M/M, punk!merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2133876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_etoile/pseuds/silver_etoile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's so much pressure on Arthur to choose the right university (Oxford) and date the right girls (Mithian), but a relationship with the weird punk kid was never in Arthur's plan. When Arthur finds himself in the unfamiliar territory of keeping secrets, he begins to wonder how much of what he thinks is right actually is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punk Rock Boy

**Author's Note:**

> The state of the world is really depressing me right now, so I thought I'd post this. It came about from looking at too many awesome punk!Merlin art pieces. Though it did take nearly a year to actually get around to, I hope you enjoy.

“Hey, Arthur, what’cha staring at?” Percy’s arm cuffs Arthur round the shoulder with enough force to knock him forward, almost falling down the steps. He catches himself on the railing and ruffles his hair coolly.

“Nothing,” he replies, turning back to the rest of the team.

Percy cranes around Arthur to look instead of taking his word. Arthur knows what he’s going to see, and he hikes his bookbag up on his shoulder. Behind Percy, Owen cranes too.

“Mate, your sister is scary.”

“Scary fit,” Valiant chimes in unhelpfully and Arthur grimaces. “Is she into vampires?”

“Fucking Christ,” Arthur curses, tossing a glance over his shoulder to where Morgana lounges under the large willow tree with her merry band of miscreants, as Uther would say.

It’s bad enough that he’s related to Morgana through whatever unseemly relations their parents had, but the least she could do was be normal. Instead, she wears tight jeans and shirts so lowcut he’s astonished the school administrators haven’t mentioned anything - probably because they’re all wankers who enjoy staring at her chest. She only seems to flaunt it. She wears too many necklaces, has an unbecoming streak of neon pink in her long, black hair, and has a piercing in every orifice one could think of - six in each ear, a nose ring, lip stud, belly button, and Arthur doesn’t even want to think about the ones he can’t see.

Along with Morgana, there’s Gwen. Gwen is Morgana’s right-hand, and Arthur doesn’t understand how it’s possible. He remembers Gwen in primary school as a bubbly, curly-haired girl who used to share her lunch with kids who didn’t have one. Now she wears dresses that fall to her mid-thigh along with the same pair of black converse every day. Her black nail polish is always perfectly painted and she wears a pearl choker that makes Arthur think of seedy nightclubs and women dressed in black leather. That can’t be Gwen. Occasionally, he does catch her giving her lunch to other students and then stealing chips off of Morgana’s tray as they eat lunch under the big tree on the edge of the grounds.

If that wasn’t bad enough, somewhere along the way, Morgana picked up Gwaine, the ridiculously good-looking bloke who could very well be a great sports player if he wasn’t into the Violent Femmes. Instead, Gwaine spends most of his time lounging in the back of class and drawing on his arm in permanent marker.

Arthur doesn’t have time to bother with Gwaine or any of them really. It’s bad enough that he’s related to Morgana, but there’s no reason he has to interact with her friends.

Rounding out the group is Merlin. Arthur doesn’t remember seeing Merlin before last year so he must have transfered in. A part of him isn’t surprised that Morgana immediately adopted him into the group. He matches so well with his jet black hair that sweep into his eyes, pale skin, a shiny silver lip ring that he rolls around with his tongue when he thinks. Not that Arthur has really noticed. Merlin’s also got an entire sleeve of tattoos crawling up his left arm, all the way over his shoulder and peeking out under the collar of his shirt. 

As he watches, Gwaine lights a cigarette, takes a drag, and passes it off to Merlin.

“She’s only my half-sister,” he says instead of answering Valiant’s question. He doesn’t want to know what Morgana is into, vampires or otherwise.

“Still, with that sleeping in the next room...” Valiant makes a lewd gesture that makes Arthur want to vomit.

“Fuck off, Valiant,” he says, more vitriolic than normal. He isn’t in the best mood already, thanks to Coach Kilgarrah yelling at him all through practice about his technique. It’s been all summer, though. How does he expect anyone to be in shape? As the team captain, Arthur supposes he should be the most in shape.

“Touchy,” Valiant replies. “How about you introduce me to Morgana and I’ll find out for myself.”

“You’re fucked if you think I’m going over there.”

Arthur tries his best _not_ to get involved with Morgana and her friends in any way, shape, or form. It’s just asking for trouble. 

“Scared of the punk kids?” Valiant teases, though nobody laughs but him. Arthur pushes himself off the railing, and even though Valiant is bigger than him, Arthur could take him. “I’ll just do it myself then.”

“Valiant, no,” Arthur says sharply as Valiant hops down the steps to the ground and starts across the lawn to Morgana’s tree.

It’s going to be a disaster. Arthur can already see it. There’s a reason he and Morgana hardly speak and don’t associate with each other at school. They both have reputations to maintain, although Arthur doesn’t always understand Morgana’s. He, on the other hand, _wants_ to get into a good university after school ends. Morgana’s interest usually lie nearer to when the next concert is.

Valiant doesn’t seem to care at all about the invisible lines that separate the groups as he strides across the lawn and comes upon Morgana. Arthur follows with the rest of the team, if only for the spectacle, and to step in if necessary. 

Morgana sits against the trunk, laughing at something Gwen says when Valiant’s shadow falls across her. Arthur hovers behind him, arms crossed, waiting for the hammerfall. 

Morgana drags her gaze up, a slim eyebrow rising gracefully. Beside her, Gwaine passes the cigarette to Merlin and whispers something in his ear. Merlin smirks and nods in reply. 

Arthur shifts on his feet as Valiant leers down at Morgana, probably trying to look down her shirt, which honestly, isn’t all that difficult. 

“Can I help you?” Morgana drawls, eyes flicking to Arthur’s, a momentary flicker of cruel amusement there.

Valiant smirks like he’s a fucking Cyrano. “I was thinking you and I should go out sometime,” he says, and Morgana’s eyebrow is so sharp, it could cut glass. “Drink some blood, do an animal sacrifice.” He laughs and Morgana smiles.

It isn’t the kind of smile that reassures a person, the kind of smile that Arthur would want to see from someone he was asking out. It’s a calm, cool, deceptively sweet smile that sets the hairs on the back of his neck on edge.

“That’s sweet of you, Valiant,” she says, ignoring Gwen laughing behind her hand. “I appreciate you volunteering for the human sacrifice, but the first thing is castration, and I just don’t think you’d be _sufficient_ enough to please the deities.”

Gwaine laughs, hand on Merlin’s knee. Merlin takes a drag of the cigarette, not looking particularly amused at what’s happening here.

To his credit, Valiant spends several seconds gaping like a fish until he spits out, “Cunt.”

“Same to you,” Morgana replies as Valiant spins on his heel and marches off. A few of the team follow him but Arthur lingers back. Morgana turns her gaze to him. “Some friends of yours, Arthur.”

Arthur doesn’t need to reply to that, and he turns without saying anything. After all, he told Valiant not to, but he can’t control other people. As he strides away, he sneaks one last look, but no one is watching him leave. Jogging, he catches up to the rest of the guys just in time for Valiant to say, “Fuck those punks. They’re all pieces of shit.”

Arthur doesn’t say, “I told you so,” but he certainly thinks it as they head off campus.

*

After dinner, which isn’t much of a dinner since his dad is late at the office again, Arthur pulls on his jacket and leaves the house. Morgana hasn’t even bothered to come home all afternoon, and Arthur has no doubt that she’s off somewhere smoking a whole pack of Marlboro's at whatever club has been deigned the one to hit that night. Going to clubs is nothing Arthur is interested in.

He doesn’t go looking for her, instead wandering down to the little park on the corner. It’s barely a patch of grass in between two diverging streets, but there’s a few benches and a cluster of trees on the edge. He wanders around the perimeter, kicking rocks on the sidewalk and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

They’ve been back in school barely a few weeks, but already, it feels like an eternity. The rest of the year is going to drag on forever, he can tell. 

On his third turn around the park, past the woods, someone knocks into him out of nowhere, a hard bump that makes him stumble. Hands grab his jacket and haul him off the sidewalk, into the cluster of dark trees. Streetlamps don’t penetrate the branches and Arthur shoves the hands off him, staring through the darkness for his attacker.

“Fucking hell,” he curses as he catches his breath, the surprise dying in him as he sees who it is, the shadow becoming visible as his eyes adjust. “What the hell are you doing?”

Slender hands reach into jean pockets and pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. The flash of fire lights up the silver ring in Merlin’s lip as he lights the cigarette. 

“Nice to see you too,” Merlin says, shoving the lighter back in his pocket. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Arthur demands again.

Merlin blows out the smoke slowly, running his tongue over his bottom lip, wetting the ring. “Taking a walk.”

It’s a vague answer but Arthur doesn’t ask anything else. 

“You’re gonna get cancer,” he says instead as Merlin raises the cigarette to his lip. Reaching over, he plucks it from his hand and takes a draw. Merlin leans back against a tree trunk and folds his arms. Arthur doesn’t smoke often - he does believe it’ll give him cancer, but sometimes, it’s a relief.

As he watches Merlin, he can tell he’s playing with his lip ring, pulling it in between his teeth. 

“Fuck cancer,” Merlin replies, taking the cigarette back.

For a moment, Arthur doesn’t say anything. He’d like to say that being ambushed by Merlin was a strange and unusual occurrence, but he’s finding more and more that it isn’t. Honestly, he’s not really sure how he feels about it.

“Saw you with Gwaine today.”

Merlin arches an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Arthur doesn’t like the feeling running through him as he watches Merlin. He’s bigger than Merlin, stronger, but something about Merlin makes him nervous. Not the same kind of unease he gets around Morgana, who always seems like she could bring down an empire with a few cutting words, or Gwaine who slathers himself over anything pretty until they succumb to his charms and he shags the living daylights out of them, not even the nervousness he feels when he has to talk to Gwen and he can’t tell if she’s the same person he knew in primary school.

“How good of friends are you?”

Merlin chuckles, more at the ground than anything, and flicks away the cigarette. It burns red for a second and then fizzles.

“Jealousy isn’t an attractive quality.”

“I’m not—” Arthur objects hotly, but he cuts himself off with a huff. “Fuck you.”

Merlin shrugs as though he doesn’t care either way, and that more than anything, annoys Arthur. Anyway, that’s what he’ll blame - that and the way Merlin’s tongue slides over his lip ring again - as he shoves Merlin up against the tree trunk and kisses him.

He can feel Merlin’s smirk against his mouth, as though he knew this was coming. It pisses Arthur off. He is not predictable, and he won’t let Merlin manipulate him. Biting down on Merlin’s lip, he sucks on the piercing that taunts him, drawing an appreciative noise out of Merlin.

“I am not jealous,” Arthur snaps as he pulls away, wiping at his mouth and swallowing. He tries not to think about how he could probably go on kissing Merlin right now and Merlin wouldn’t stop him. Merlin hasn’t been stopping him since the middle of July when they’d somehow ended up alone at Arthur’s house when Morgana was late coming home to meet Merlin.

Arthur still isn’t sure what happened that night, and now it’s been two months. Two months of meeting up under cover of darkness, of occasionally wandering touches underneath clothing, of keeping it a secret from everyone. This cannot get out, that Arthur has sunk so low to actually spend time with Merlin. He knows Merlin doesn’t want anyone to know either, even if Merlin is horribly nonchalant about the whole thing.

Merlin draws a slow breath, the night air turning crisp already, winter on the horizon. He sweeps his hair to the side, into his eyes. Arthur wishes he wouldn’t do that, but he says nothing. Merlin won’t care what he thinks about his appearance.

As he stands there, debating between going home and pretending this didn’t happen and asking more about the way Gwaine was touching Merlin’s knee earlier, Merlin sighs and reaches out, dragging Arthur closer by his jacket. Arthur goes, despite the thoughts swirling in his head, taking jilted steps forward until their chests press together and he can feel Merlin’s hot breath against his cheek.

“I don’t want anybody to know about this,” Merlin says, voice quiet, close to Arthur’s ear, but all Arthur is thinking about is the proximity of their lower bodies. “Especially Morgana.”

Arthur huffs out a laugh. Morgana is the last person he ever wants to find out.

Merlin’s hand grazes up his back, fingers light as they slide under his jacket. Arthur stiffens at the touch, not unwelcome but still surprising. 

“So keep your non-jealousy to yourself,” Merlin continues, eyes meeting Arthur’s in the darkness.

“I’m not—” Arthur starts, but Merlin cuts him off, shaking his head.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, and then he pulls Arthur flush against him and kisses him.

Considering Arthur is relatively popular, being captain of the football team and all, he hasn’t snogged nearly as many people as one would think. There had been a poorly-thought-out fling with Vivian last year that had ended in Vivian storming out on him in the movies when he tried to break up with her. Since then, she’s been out with practically the whole team just to spite him.

Snogging Merlin is an entirely different experience, not just because he’s a bloke, but because Merlin isn’t soft and supple, waiting for Arthur to take the lead. Instead, he’s hard, sharp angles, digging fingertips that make Arthur think of knocking headboards, squeaking bed springs, harsh pants in the dark. It was never like that with Vivian no matter how far she let him go.

A dark urge rises in Arthur as they kiss, tongue sliding against Merlin’s, the cold glide of his lip ring against his skin, an urge to press his fingers down and bruise Merlin, to prove that he isn’t weak. He doesn’t, though, too caught up in Merlin’s mouth, Merlin’s fingers dancing along his spine, the unstoppable rush of blood to his cock.

Fuck, he’s getting hard.

Pulling away abruptly, Arthur gasps for air. Snogging is one thing. Getting hard is another. 

For a second, Merlin searches him, as though looking for the answer to his unspoken question. When he doesn’t find one, he asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” Arthur spits out, taking a step back. “I have to get home. My dad will be wondering where I am.”

Merlin still looks confused, but he doesn’t argue with Arthur. “Okay.”

“I’ll, uh, yeah,” Arthur says, smoothing down his jacket unnecessarily, glad that it’s dark and Merlin can’t see the bulge in his jeans. Turning, he blunders his way out of the thicket and into the park. When he looks back, halfway across the park, all he can see is the flicker of a lighter but then it’s gone. 

Get a grip, Arthur tells himself firmly as he resolutely heads home. He lied to Merlin. Even if his dad is home, he won’t be wondering where he is. He probably hasn’t even noticed that he isn’t there. He just had to get out of there.

For two months, they’ve been sneaking around, an unspoken agreement that whatever this is, it’s to remain a secret. Arthur has gotten hard before, and every time, it freaks him out. He can’t get hard over Merlin. Then again, he gets hard over the most inconspicuous things some days. 

It isn’t the gay thing that freaks him out. Arthur doesn’t know if he’s gay or bi or whatever (and he certainly doesn’t plan on telling his dad until he figures it out). What freaks him out is that Merlin is everything Arthur doesn’t find attractive. He’s lanky and skinny, and he looks like he never gets enough sun. He’s dry and sarcastic, and though he does get good marks in most of his classes, he doesn’t seem to care.

Uther’s car isn’t in the drive when Arthur gets home and the lights are still off which means Morgana isn’t home either. Arthur leaves them off as he climbs the stairs to his room and collapses on his bed. Closing his eyes, he tries to think of anything other than Merlin’s hands pressing into his back, the slick slide of his mouth, the noise he’d made, low in his throat, as Arthur had kissed him.

_Fuck._

Despite his better judgment, Arthur reaches for his jeans, hastily undoing the zip and shoving his hand inside. He squeezes his eyes shut as his fingers wrap around his cock and he pulls. He just needs to get off. Then he can stop thinking about Merlin.

In his mind, he follows the movement of Merlin’s hand, bringing a cigarette to his lips, soft, pink lips with a silver hoop through the lower. Merlin’s fingers, long and slender, make Arthur think of them on his skin, brushing down his stomach, smoothing under his trousers.

Biting his lip, Arthur holds back his moan as his cock throbs in his grip and he comes a moment later. He strokes through the orgasm that leaves him shaking and panting into his pillow, feeling both relief and regret. He doesn’t want to open his eyes, to admit what he just did. He got off thinking of Merlin. Shit.

At length, he clears his throat and rolls onto his back. His jeans are a sticky mess and he makes a face, but he doesn’t get up to change. 

It’s normal, he tells himself firmly. He’s a teenager for Christ’s sake. He gets hard from the most innocuous things. Whatever he and Merlin are doing, it’s going to stay a secret because this is his last year. He doesn’t need something like this messing up his life when he needs to be focusing on exams and university applications.

Maybe it can be a good thing, he thinks, shimmying out of his jeans and flopping on the bed. No one has to know and they can keep snogging. After all, the snogging isn’t bad. Merlin’s a pretty good kisser, better than Arthur had thought he would be - not that Arthur had thought about it before it happened. 

In all honesty, before that night a few months ago, Arthur hadn’t much noticed Merlin. He was the quieter one of Morgana’s friends, but compared to Gwaine, anyone would be. Arthur had assumed he was meek, but he’d been proven wrong several times since then.

As long as they keep it quiet, it could be mutually beneficial. Yes, Arthur decides, pulling up the sheets. Mutually beneficial is a great to put it.

*

In class, Arthur chews on his pen and stares at the back of Merlin’s neck, trying to make out the peek of tattoo visible above his shirt collar. He shouldn’t be staring. He should be listening to Agravaine lecturing about limits and drawing squiggly lines on the board. It’s distracting, though, the flash of colour on Merlin’s skin. As he watches, Merlin reaches back and scratches his neck. Where Gwen’s black nailpolish is always painted to perfection, Merlin’s is chipped and he doesn’t seem to care.

Today, he’s wearing his same skinny jeans, impossibly tight - Arthur doesn’t understand how he walks in them, let alone sits with his leg propped up. He’s got on his favourite, or at least, Arthur thinks it’s his favourite since he wears it all the time, leather jacket with ugly silver studs tapped into the material. Arthur bets a thousand quid that Merlin did it himself.

“Hey.” An elbow knocks into Arthur and he jerks upright. Shit. He’s been caught. Turning, he finds Lance frowning at his notebook. “What did Agravaine just say about the limit?”

“Uhh.” Arthur glances at the board, scanning the myriad of graphs and numbers scribbled there in Agravaine’s chicken scrawl. He hasn’t been paying attention the last ten minutes really, and limits are not his strong suit. 

“Don’t blame you,” Lance mutters when Arthur can’t answer. “Agravaine goes a mile a minute.”

“Something to share, boys?” Agravaine looms over them suddenly, coming out of nowhere. 

“No, sir,” Arthur says smoothly.

“I was wondering if you could repeat that last bit about the limit and infinity,” Lance says, polite as always, saving Arthur from punishment. Arthur has never figured out why, but Agravaine always seems to have it in for him.

After a prolonged pause, Agravaine returns to the front of the class. “When the function approaches infinity, the limit appears not to exist, at least not by any numerical definition.”

Arthur still isn’t listening. Merlin had barely twitched during the whole thing, pen running smoothly over his paper. He’s clearly not taking notes, more likely drawing something. Arthur wonders what Merlin does, how he manages to make good marks when he spends all of class doodling. It takes most of Arthur’s concentration most days just to understand calculus. He’s much better at History. 

History, his father says, is not a viable career choice which is why he has to take calculus for his A-levels and apply for a business school.

Class drags on forever, but Agravaine finally releases them. Grabbing his bag, Arthur is one of the first out the door, but he waits in the hall for Lance to catch up. 

“You have practice today?” Lance asks as he emerges, stuffing his textbook away. 

“Almost every day.”

Lance nods. He doesn’t play anymore after his injury last year, but a part of Arthur is glad Lance isn’t on the team anymore. Lance is too nice to be like the rest of those guys. It’s nice to have one friend who isn’t on the team.

“Oh, hang on,” Lance says as Merlin passes them, hands shoved in his impossibly small pockets.

Something squeezes Arthur’s stomach as he watches Lance catch up to Merlin. He considers lingering back but curiosity (and panic) gets the better of him, and he steps up behind Lance.

“I thought it was pretty good,” Lance says, handing over a few papers. Arthur can see comments written in blue pen on the margins. “I made some comments there.”

Merlin takes it from him, his eyes landing on Arthur behind Lance. Lance turns and Arthur shoves his hair back nonchalantly, but he’s hyper aware of everyone passing them.

“Yeah, thanks,” Merlin says curtly, stuffing the pages in his bag and turning on his heel.

“What the hell was that?” Arthur demands the moment Merlin disappears into the crowd.

Lance shrugs like it’s not a big deal, and maybe it isn’t to Lance who can be friends with whoever he wants, but to Arthur, it’s a very big deal. He can’t be seen talking to Merlin.

“I read something for him.”

“What something?” Arthur asks as they head down the hall to the cafeteria.

Lance shoots him a look that says he’s pushing too far. “It was just an essay. Why are you so upset?”

“I’m not upset,” Arthur argues immediately, like a parrot who only knows a few phrases. He scowls and hitches up his bookbag. “I just think we need to stick to our own groups.”

“This isn’t West Side Story,” Lance points out, pushing open the cafeteria doors and stepping in. They head for the team’s table on the far side and Arthur is glad Merlin eats outside with Morgana and her friends.

“I’m only looking out for you,” Arthur says. “It’s your last year - you don’t want to be labeled as friends with the layabouts, do you?”

Lance opens his mouth to say something, but they reach the table and are interrupted by Valiant.

“Arthur, your sister is a total bitch.”

“Half-sister,” Arthur mutters as he sinks into his seat. No one ever listens to that part. He doesn’t argue with Valiant, though, because it’s true.

“You’re just sore she rejected you so thoroughly,” Percy points out while the rest of the guys laugh. Arthur does his best to laugh along, but Valiant’s words worry him. 

“She’s a fucking bitch,” Valiant says again, undeterred. “She needs to be taught a lesson.”

“How about you stay away from her like I suggested?” Arthur says. As the captain, he has to keep things in check. Morgana can take care of herself, he knows, but he doesn’t want Valiant to get any ideas. They don’t need problems between the groups. It’s bad enough already.

“How about you do it?” Valiant shoots back and Arthur almost laughs. Morgana can even scare him sometimes. The thought of teaching her anything is laughable.

“If you think she was joking about the castrating, she probably wasn’t,” Arthur says. “So I’d let it go, mate.”

_Just fucking let it go,_ Arthur wills Valiant silently. Valiant can be stubbornly resistant.

At length, Valiant breaks his glare at Arthur and sits back, seemingly accepting defeat, though Arthur isn’t entirely sure he has. Still, he has for now and that’s what matters.

For now, they can eat lunch in peace, though doubt itches at the back of Arthur’s mind, an unease he doesn’t like. For a moment, he even finds himself envying Morgana, who can do what she wants and no one cares. Uther has long given up trying to control her - he nearly had a heart attack when she came home with pink in her hair. Instead, he focuses on Arthur. That is, when he’s home.

“You okay?” Lance asks quietly when everyone else is busy talking about the upcoming game with Mercia. 

Arthur smiles easily at him and pushes his shoulder. “Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Lance doesn’t reply, but Arthur suspects he hasn’t convinced him. He really needs to start acting normally, but this thing with Merlin has him all thrown off. He doesn’t know how to act without feeling like he’s lying to everyone. They can’t find out, though, or all hell would break loose. Valiant can’t even stand the thought of Morgana. What would he do if Arthur announced he snogged Merlin?

He doesn’t even want to think about it.

Glancing out the large window to the left, Arthur intends to check the clouds gathering in the sky, but his gaze is drawn momentarily to the group under the willow tree. Gwaine is draped over Merlin, stealing chips from his plate and laughing in his ear. Morgana waves her hands as she speaks, and Gwen appears to be listening and occasionally offering an opinion.

Arthur forces his eyes away, mostly so no one gets suspicious, and also because the sight of Gwaine’s arm around Merlin’s shoulders makes him irrationally annoyed. He is not jealous, though. It’s a ridiculous notion. Gwaine is just slimy, handsy, and the fact that he has a tongue stud certainly doesn’t recommend him.

Arthur picks at his lunch and only vaguely listens as Valiant describes just how he’s going to crush Mercia next week.

*

By the time school lets out, the clouds have gathered together and it’s started to rain. Fat drops fall and wet Arthur’s shirt and everything else during practice. By the time it’s over, everyone is drenched, covered in mud, and all Arthur wants is to take a very long shower. They don’t have that kind of time in the locker room, though, so Arthur rinses off and throws on his clothes.

“See you guys later,” he says as he leaves, stepping into the rain yet again and heading home.

As he crosses campus, he catches sight of a familiar figure sloping out of the library. Merlin walks with his back hunched against the wind, and Arthur only glances around for a second, making sure he’s alone before hurrying his step.

He follows Merlin at a distance, not close enough to for anyone to think they’re together, but close enough to keep him in his sights. The further they walk, the wetter it becomes. What the hell is he doing? Arthur doesn’t know.

Merlin turns a corner, around a tall wall climbing with vines. Arthur hurries to catch up, rounding the corner and nearly running smack dab into Merlin.

“You’re not a very good stalker,” Merlin says, unaffected by the way Arthur stumbles back in surprise.

Arthur resents that and crosses his arms. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” Merlin replies like it should be obvious. 

They’re standing on a corner in the pouring rain. Home is exactly where Arthur should be. Home with a hot shower, takeaway food, and a movie. 

“What were you doing in the library?”

Merlin arches an eyebrow and brushes his hair in his eyes. “Are all your questions this stupid?”

Bristling, Arthur glares. “Just stay away from Lance.”

Merlin’s eyebrow comes down and he pulls out a cigarette. “Funny. Didn’t think he swung that way.”

“You know what I mean.”

Merlin doesn’t light the cigarette and water drips from his hair onto his shoulders. Instead, he rolls it around in his fingers for a moment. Arthur watches the movement.

“You want to come over?” Merlin asks finally, and Arthur stares.

“What?” 

“My mum works the night shift,” he says, tucking away the cigarette, and that is not an explanation in Arthur’s mind.

After a moment, Merlin turns without waiting for Arthur’s response. Jesus, his ass looks good in those jeans. Arthur gives himself a firm shake. What is he doing? He has no idea, and that’s probably why he follows Merlin.

They turn another corner and pass a row of identical-looking faded brick houses. Merlin goes up the stairs of one and pulls a key out. Arthur has no idea where he has been keeping it.

Arthur has never been to Merlin’s house. He’s never even wondered where Merlin lived before now. The outside looks typical, and the inside isn’t much different. It’s much smaller than Arthur’s house, but on the other end of the spectrum, it feels so much more homey. There are photographs on the mantle, throws over the sofa, and Merlin drops his bag in the entryway when he enters. Uther would have a fit if Arthur ever did anything so thoughtless. If he was home to notice, that is.

Merlin doesn’t offer him a drink, kicking off his shoes and padding up the stairs. Despite his better judgment, Arthur follows. He wonders when he just started following Merlin. Upstairs, they end up in Merlin’s room.

Arthur has never been in a room filled with so much black. Even Morgana’s room has “ironic” splashes of colour. Merlin’s feels like a den. Even with the curtain pulled back, it doesn’t feel like there’s any light. Sketches are plastered to the walls along with posters of bands Arthur has never heard of.

As Arthur wonders if Merlin drew all the sketches, Merlin shrugs out of his jacket and dumps it on his desk chair. Arthur looks up at the noise. Right. He hasn’t come there to admire brushstrokes. He doesn’t know why it makes him nervous, more so than usual this time, as he straightens up and pulls off his jacket. It’s soaked and he lays it gently on Merlin’s desk.

Merlin flops onto the bed, pulling out a magazine and flipping through the pages as Arthur wonders where all his confidence went. If this was a girl, if a girl had invited him to her room, he probably would already have her pressed against the mattress. But it’s Merlin who looks entirely unimpressed at Arthur’s lack of initiative.

Arthur forces himself to do something, and he sits down next to Merlin on the bed, glancing at the magazine. It’s something called _Kerrang!_ but Arthur recognizes none of the bands featured. 

Merlin keeps flipping until he tosses the magazine aside and looks at Arthur. “You’re not so thick that you don’t know why you’re here?”

Arthur frowns. “No.”

“Funny,” Merlin says, pushing himself up to Arthur’s eye-level, perched on his side. “I thought jocks were all about scoring.”

“And I thought, of all people, that you wouldn’t stereotype.”

Merlin smirks and leans into Arthur. “Because you never do.”

It’s a challenge and Arthur knows it, a tease to get him to do what Merlin wants. Merlin’s mouth is inches from his, waiting, daring him to make the first move. Merlin tilts his head to the side, almost boredly.

There’s nothing to lose here, Arthur tells himself as he watches Merlin’s tongue slide over his lip ring. They’re alone and no one will ever find out.

In the end, Arthur does make the first move, but Merlin lets him, waits for Arthur to lean forward, close the gap between them, and kiss him. 

Arthur hates to admit it, especially to Merlin, but he’s never done this in a bed. The few times he and Vivian actually got this far, and the one time they shagged, it had happened in the back of his dad’s Mercedes in the grove behind the old barn in the country. Probably not the best decision, but it had been the only option at the time.

It’s strange, being in a soft bed, with Merlin rolling onto his back, pulling Arthur on top of him as they kiss. Merlin’s fingers are cold as they slide around Arthur’s neck, but his mouth is warm, free from the taste of cigarettes for once. He must not have smoked any today. 

Arthur closes his eyes, following the slide of Merlin’s lips. It’s easier with his eyes closed, not to think that this is Merlin, the last person he should be doing this with. 

Merlin’s hand slides down Arthur’s side, pushing under his shirt and skittering over his skin. Breaking from the kiss, Arthur stares down at Merlin. This is new, new and not entirely unpleasant, he thinks, as Merlin pulls him back, biting at his lips, hand curling into the back of his neck. For a moment, everything feels natural - the slide of Merlin’s hand over his lower back, the angle of the kiss as Arthur licks into Merlin’s mouth.

Then Arthur shifts, knee against the bed, and his hips press into Merlin’s. The unexpected flash of heat in his prick, the hardness in his trousers against Merlin’s thigh, make Arthur’s eyes widen and he starts to pull away. This isn’t happening again.

Merlin has a better grip this time, though, and he protests Arthur’s movement with a vague noise against his mouth. The cold slide of his lip ring against Arthur’s skin sends a shiver down Arthur’s spine, and for a second, he forgets what he’s doing. He kisses Merlin hard, teeth clacking together, noses pressed at an uncomfortable angle, but this is what snogging is supposed to be. 

“Fuck,” Merlin breathes, his hand loosening from around Arthur’s neck and moving down his side. He pushes his hips up, as if to create space between them. 

Somewhere in Arthur’s hazy mind, he thinks that space is probably the answer to his problem, but the thought never quite connects, not until Merlin’s fingers are undoing the zipper and pushing under his waistband.

“Shit,” he curses sharply, pulling away from Merlin’s mouth, panic rising in his chest at Merlin’s touch.

“It’s okay,” Merlin says as Arthur scrambles to find an excuse for the way his cock throbs, too hard to explain. Merlin’s hand at the small of his back, fingers splayed against the skin, no longer cold but warm and soft, presses down, keeps him there. “It’s okay.”

Arthur wants to say that it’s not okay that he’s hard, that he’s getting even harder as Merlin’s hand brushes over his cock. Instead, he squeezes his eyes shut as Merlin’s hand encircles his cock and strokes once. Shit, it’s better than he imagined. Better than his wanking fantasies he tries to keep at bay. It’s Merlin’s hand, soft and smooth yet firm and purposeful, wrapped around his prick, jerking him off slowly, like they have all the time in the world.

He remembers Vivian doing this, just once before she declared it dirty and disgusting, but it had been too soft, too simpering. Nothing like Merlin, who seems to know exactly how to turn Arthur into an inarticulate bumble. 

Merlin presses up against Arthur, mouthing along his jaw, sending Arthur’s body into hyper-drive, heat spreading over every inch of his skin as his stomach clenches in anticipation of the release that’s sure to come. He can’t fight the arousal sparked by Merlin’s tongue sliding over his neck, the nip at his collarbone that makes him groan and give in to this feeling, knowing it’s Merlin doing all these things to him. Fuck it. He doesn’t care. Getting off is getting off as the guys on the team would say. He isn’t sure this is what they meant, though.

Merlin’s hand twists on his cock, wanking him off, squeezing at just the right time as Arthur bites his lip and bows his head, pressed against Merlin’s shoulder as he muffles his moan and comes. It’s a shuddering mess as he tries to keep control and fails spectacularly. Merlin’s hand slides down his prick, smearing come, and Arthur momentarily agrees with Vivian about the dirty part, but he’s got someone else’s hand on his prick which pretty much negates that fact.

He sucks in air like he’s forgotten how to breath as he hoists himself up, probably crushing Merlin. Merlin doesn’t seem to mind, brushing his hair down with his clean hand and reaching for a tissue with the other.

Arthur doesn’t know what time it is as he hovers there, rain pattering the window, but it’s probably time to head home, even if no one will be there. He doesn’t really need Merlin’s questioning eyebrow that rises as he hovers too long. Rolling off the bed, Arthur zips up his trousers and hopes walking home in the rain will obscure the spot on the front. 

“So you’ll stay away from Lance?” Arthur asks, clearing his throat as he shoves his shoes on.

“He won’t find out, if you’re worried,” Merlin only says behind him. 

Arthur glances back, rolling around a scathing response, but in the end, he tugs up the zipper on his jacket. “You stay with your friends and I’ll stay with mine.”

Merlin drags out his lighter as Arthur grabs the door handle and pulls. “I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he says, though Arthur is mostly convinced the tone is sarcastic. The lighter clicks behind Arthur and Arthur doesn’t look back, opening the door and leaving down the narrow hallway to the stairs.

He lets the rain soak him on the way home, taking the long way ‘round and splashing up the front walk as the streetlamps begin to flicker on. Unlocking the front door, he steps inside, surprised to find the hall light on. He hadn’t seen his dad’s car in the drive.

Toeing off his shoes by the door, he heads for the kitchen, passing the entrance to the living room.

“Well, well,” comes a smooth, overly-sweet voice that sends a shiver down his spine. “Where’ve you been, Arthur, dear?”

“Morgana.”

Arthur turns despite his better judgment to find Morgana draped over the settee, black boots propped on Uther’s thousand pound furniture, painting her nails an unfortunate shade of green. He knows he shouldn’t engage in conversation - it’s undoubtedly a trap that will lead to much unpleasantness as it has since the day Morgana turned sixteen and discovered the colour black.

She flicks the top of the polish bottle closed, twisting so tightly Arthur can hear the squeeze of plastic.

“You’re getting home late,” she says, surveying his appearance, but there’s not much to see aside from rain-soaked clothes. Arthur doesn’t take off his jacket or make any attempts to dry off.

“No later than you usually are. At least when I’m out, you know I’m not making sacrifices to Satan.”

“You understand absolutely nothing about punk, do you?” she drawls. 

Arthur doesn’t care about punk or whatever Morgana calls sticking needles in every part of her body. He’s not involved and he never plans to be. 

“I know someday you’re going to regret piercing everything.” Honestly, Arthur doesn’t want to have this conversation. Most of the time, he tries to forget that he and Morgana are even related, and living in the same house makes it incredibly difficult to do so.

Turning from the entranceway, he heads up the stairs, peeling off his jacket as he goes, eager to get out of his clothes, his trousers especially. In his room, he throws on a pair of soft pants and flops into bed. He as homework to do, but the thought of doing calculus makes his head hurt, so he flips on the telly and skims the channel, but nothing catches his attention.

It isn’t long before he hears the tell-tale clunk of Morgana’s boots on the hardwood and his door swings open without so much as a knock. His glare says it all since they’ve had this argument too many times to count. Privacy, Morgana, _privacy_.

For a second, she just perches against his door frame, not entering the room and blowing on her nails. 

She’s up to something. Arthur knows it. He’s known her all his life, and sometimes he finds it difficult to believe she was the sweet, nice girl who would bring in birds that fell out of the nest to nurse until they were old enough to fly. Where did that girl go? Instead, she’s turned into a sharp, prickly teenager that lives for Arthur’s unhappiness.

At length, Morgana lowers her hand and fixes Arthur with a gaze that only increases his suspicion. “What are you doing on Saturday night?”

Frowning, Arthur changes the channel on the television. “Why?”

She flips her hair over her shoulder. “There’s a battle of the bands down at the pub. Thought you might like to come.”

This is the first time Morgana has ever invited him anywhere since they were twelve years old. Arthur doesn’t trust her for a second.

“What could possibly make you think I would want to go?” Morgana knows perfectly well that Arthur detests the music she blares in her room. What would ever make him go to a pub to listen to even worse music from amateurs? 

Morgana shrugs an elegant shoulder, and really, she should be wearing cocktail dresses, not midriff black lace tops and fishnet stockings. Someday, she’ll regret this, and Arthur will have pictures to lord over her. He just wishes that time would hurry up.

“Thought maybe you’d want to get away from those meatheads you call friends. Merlin’s going to be there.”

“So?” Arthur frowns at the TV. It shouldn’t matter to him if Merlin is going, but more importantly, why does Morgana think it would? 

Morgana bristles as though insulted at his dismissal. “You should really choose your friends better, Arthur.”

“Why?” Arthur asks, looking away from the TV and ignoring the sudden jolt in his stomach that came with Morgana specifically mentioning Merlin. “You chose yours so well. A bunch of layabout who don’t shower and are going to go deaf in five years from all that music.”

“You sound just like Uther,” Morgana says, and it’s more cutting than anything else she could have said. “Someday, you’ll be sitting in a board room in London while your kids are home alone because how you look to others is so much more important than anything else.”

“Get out,” Arthur snaps, grabbing a book off the table and ripping it open. “Next time, I’ll tell Valiant you’re just playing hard to get.”

Morgana glares and slams the door shut behind her. The walls rattle but Arthur keeps his eyes on the book until he’s sure she’s gone. Heaving a sigh, he sets it back on the table. The clock tells him it’s nearing eight, but the sky has darkened completely outside. Uther probably won’t be home for a few hours, if that. He takes the late train, or sometimes stays in the city if it gets too late.

The thought of becoming like Uther is not something Arthur likes to think about. Rolling over on the bed, he sighs at the window. He’s not going to end up like that, even if Uther expects him to go into the family business, to go to Oxford, study business, and come out a little copy. Arthur does want to please him, but he’s determined not to stop caring about his friends and family, although Morgana might be the exception.

There are still many months before he has to decide on a university and a career path. For now, he should try to worry about the present, not the future, like why Morgana mentioned Merlin. Shaking his head, he presses it into the pillow and groans. That’s all he needs.

No one knows, he tells himself firmly, and today, Merlin jerked him off for the first time. The conflicting emotions, of worry and pleasure as he remembers Merlin’s hands on his body, make everything confusing. Tomorrow, Arthur resolves, everything will be normal. Normal is good.

*

The staring is starting to get out of hand, Arthur thinks, forcing himself to concentrate on what Agrevaine is drilling into them, pacing back and forth in front of the board. Merlin isn’t watching Agrevaine, head bowed to his paper, pen zipping across in what are clearly not notes. His hair is messier than usual, as though he rolled out of bed and forgot to bother with it.

Arthur fights back the urge to touch it, even though he’s three seats back from Merlin. Gripping his pencil, he returns his gaze to the textbook. Numbers blur together and he barely notices Agrevaine dismissing class a few minutes later.

“Arthur?” Lance asks as he rises and Arthur remains in his seat. 

“Oh.” Arthur stands quickly, knocking into the table. It scrapes against the floor, loud but covered by the rest of the class crowding out the door. When he looks up, Merlin is already gone, much to his relief. He doesn’t think he can stand to stare at the back of his neck anymore. It’s too distracting, and sooner or later, someone’s going to notice.

He isn’t sure why he can’t stop. Every time he looks at Merlin, he thinks of Merlin’s hands, soft and smooth, sliding under his jeans. He thinks of Merlin’s tongue lapping at his collarbone, of a soft groan in his ear. 

Frowning, Arthur shoves his textbook in his bag and follows Lance into the hall. What happened to normal? Merlin is his problem, he decides as they head for the cafeteria. Lance is talking about the homework, but Arthur hardly listens. Before Merlin came along and they’d fallen into this… whatever it is, Arthur had been perfectly fine. His last year had been looking up - he was captain of the team, something his dad had actually approved of, and Morgana had finally found her own friends to torture. 

If Arthur thinks, he can’t really remember the first time he saw Merlin. One day he wasn’t there and the next day, he was hanging out with Morgana, smoking cigarettes and laughing with Gwaine. 

Merlin is Arthur’s problem and there has to be something he can do about that. If anyone finds out they’ve been fooling around, Arthur’s reputation will be dead. Not necessarily because Merlin is a bloke (Percy, after all, swings the other way and no one gives him a hard time, but Percy’s so big he could crush anyone who so much as thinks about it) but because Merlin is so far on the other end of the spectrum to Arthur and his friends. Valiant would probably have a stroke.

“Did you hear about that battle of the bands thing down at McCairn’s?” Lance asks as they pass the front door. Outside, it’s drizzling. Arthur knows what that means - Morgana and co. will be ensconced in the alcove at the library’s back door. He doesn’t know why he knows that but he does.

“Vaguely,” he replies, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Bit of a stupid idea, huh?”

Lance shrugs. “I thought it sounded fun. Something to do other than homework.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in music.”

Lance smiles and pushes open the door to the cafeteria. “Life isn’t all football and calculus.”

Arthur almost smiles, but as he’s distracted, someone runs into him, their shoulders colliding painfully. “Hey, watch it,” he snaps, turning around to find Merlin glaring at him.

“Sorry, your highness,” Merlin replies with a sarcastic nod of his head. His eyes flick to Arthur’s for a moment, a piercing blue that makes Arthur hesitate to reply, though he knows he should say something scathing in return.

Unfortunately, Merlin lopes away before Arthur can get over himself. Beside him, Lance rolls his eyes.

“So you wanna come?” Lance asks as though nothing interrupted them. 

“I don’t know.” Arthur forces himself to turn from Merlin’s retreating form. He’s already said no to Morgana, and he knows she’ll be there. “It doesn’t sound that interesting.”

“Come on,” Lance says with a small smile. “What else do you have to do aside from work out?”

“Bugger off,” Arthur says but he’s not serious. “Fine, I’ll go if it’ll make you stop asking.”

Lance laughs and grabs his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “You’re a real mate. Why don’t you ask someone to come along? I heard Mithian’s broken up with Elyan.”

Arthur doesn’t respond, considering the suggestion, seeking out Mithian amongst the people in the canteen. He finds her in the far corner with her friends. She’s pretty easy on the eyes, he thinks, and not dim-witted like many of the girls in their year. He could go out with Mithian. Nothing’s stopping him. 

For a moment, his thoughts flick to Merlin, but they’re not dating. Even if he could ask Merlin out, he wouldn’t because he doesn’t like Merlin. Anyway, that’s what he tells himself as they finally join the team at their table. Mithian sounds like an excellent choice for a night at the pub.

*

Arthur doesn’t tell any of the team about the battle of the bands, mostly because he doesn’t think any of them would be interested, and also because he doesn’t want any of them to invite themselves along on his date. It is a date, he decides as he gets ready to go to the pub where Mithian is supposed to meet him. When he’d asked her, she’d smiled and flipped her long, brown hair over her shoulder before saying yes.

The last date Arthur went on was almost a year ago, and he feels unnecessarily nervous as he fixes his hair. He just wishes they weren’t going to a pub where Morgana and Merlin will be. Lance will be there too, though, he reminds himself and stuffs his wallet in his pocket. He doesn’t have to speak to Morgana, and he’d prefer not to.

For once, Arthur is glad that Uther isn’t home when he leaves. Otherwise, he’d be obliged to answer too many questions about where he’s going and with whom. When Uther is home, he seems to think that prying into Arthur’s life shows he cares. 

It isn’t too far to the pub, but it’s been drizzling non-stop for the past few days, so by the time Arthur gets there, his jacket is weighed down with water. Mithian waits outside with an umbrella and she smiles as he approaches. Something unfamiliar flutters in Arthur’s stomach, but it isn’t excitement. Pushing it away, he returns the smile.

“Glad you made it,” he says as he reaches her and she holds out her umbrella so he can duck under.

“Honestly,” she says as they stand there. “I was a little surprised you asked me.”

“Oh?” Arthur asks, unsure if that’s a good or a bad thing.

“After Vivian, I mean, after you and Vivian broke up, you seemed down. Especially lately. I wasn’t sure you’d be ready to date.”

It’s nice of her to make it sound like it was a mutual decision to break up when most everyone knows that Vivian dumped him. 

“Well, thought it was about time,” Arthur replies, trying to sound upbeat. “And we’re finally both free at the same time.”

“Yes, we are,” she agrees with a smile. 

“Right,” Arthur says, feeling awkward. “We should go in.”

Mithian nods and takes down her umbrella as they enter the pub. With her at his side, Arthur isn’t sure what to do. He’s never been great at dating - Vivian broke up with him for that exact reason. She’d said he had no idea how to care about another person, but Arthur suspects it’s because he didn’t pay her enough attention. 

“You want a drink?” he asks, surprised by the crowd already gathered inside. It’s dim and smoky with people cluttered around tables and employees setting up a stage near the back. 

“That would be lovely,” Mithian says. “Oh, there’s Morgana. I should say hello.”

“To Morgana?” Arthur is taken aback, though his surprise is outweighed by the rock sinking in his stomach that Morgana is indeed there, which means Merlin probably is too. Now’s not the time to be thinking about Merlin. Turning to the bartender, he orders two pints just in time for Morgana to appear before him and Mithian.

“Arthur, you came,” she says, sounding triumphant, as though she was the one who did it. 

“Lance invited me,” he replies coldly, hoping to make it perfectly clear that she had no bearing on his coming. 

Morgana smiles, tight-lipped, and turns to Mithian. “Mithian, I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Mithian’s smile is polite, not overly friendly, which reassures Arthur slightly. “It has been a while,” she agrees. She hesitates. “I like your outfit.” 

Arthur sincerely hopes Mithian is simply being polite. Who could think ripped skinny jeans and a tee shirt that is big enough to be Arthur’s (though Arthur would never cinch it at the waist or let it hang so low on the chest) be considered fashionable? He can practically see right down her shirt if she leans over in the slightest. He hopes she’s at least put on a bra this time. 

Morgana doesn’t reply to that, and Arthur grabs the beers from the bartender. He hands one to Mithian and sets his on the bar. 

“Morgana.” Merlin appears from nowhere, sweeping his hair down, as though out of habit, and looking bored. “I can’t stay too long, especially if I have to listen to Gwen blather on about…” He trails off, noticing Arthur finally. His mouth twitches but he doesn’t say hello. 

“Merlin,” Morgana says. “Look who came, and he’s brought Mithian.”

Instinctively, Arthur slides an arm over Mithian’s shoulders, quietly gauging Merlin’s reaction. Merlin doesn’t even blink. Mithian glances at Arthur and smiles slightly.

“Lovely,” Merlin deadpans. “Is Gwaine coming, did you say?”

“He should be here soon. He’s probably chatting someone up outside.”

“Lovely,” Merlin says again, but it’s more annoyed this time. “I’m going to go find him.”

Merlin weaves his way through the crowd, and Arthur realizes a second too late he’s watching him go. Jerking back to face Morgana, he’s met with her scrutinizing gaze. 

“We’re going to find Lance,” he says, grabbing his drink and steering Mithian away from Morgana. He can feel her gaze boring into his back as they leave but he doesn’t turn. He has no idea why she has it in for him this time, but he’s not going to give her any ammunition.

“She used to be so nice,” Mithian says with a sigh as they make their way through the crowd.

“Before she started worshiping Satan,” Arthur mutters. That’s not the real reason, but other people don’t need to know about their messy family drama. Morgana only started dressing that way after Uther’s paternity had been revealed. It had been a shock to all, Arthur and Morgana especially. “There’s Lance.”

He spots Lance finally and guides Mithian through the crowd, dropping his arm from her shoulders as they reach Lance at a small table a little ways back from the stage.

“Hey,” he greets them cheerily, pulling his gaze from something on the other side of the room, as Arthur drops into the chair. Mithian sits next to him and he remembers, he’s supposed to be on a date. 

“What were you looking at?” Mithian asks Lance curiously.

To Arthur’s surprise, Lance flushes slightly and grabs his pint. “Nothing. You’re just in time. The first band’s about to go on.”

Arthur wouldn’t call it just in time when the first band is so screechy, he nearly has to stuff his fingers in his ears. Arthur’s idea of music is something you can actually understand the words to, something that has a definitive tune instead of just screaming into a microphone. By the third band, he’s starting to get a headache, and his beer has done nothing to dull it. Mithian seems to be enjoying herself, leaning over and speaking in his ear.

“I thought once about starting a girl band,” she says. “But I’ve never found the time.”

Arthur nods, but he’s not really listening. The latest band to take the stage seems to think that banging the cymbals as loud as they can is what makes punk rock good.

“I’m just gonna,” he says, pointing vaguely at the restrooms and making his way through the crowd. In the toilets, the sound is barely muffled, but it’s quieter.

Standing at the sink, he sighs and rubs his forehead. Why did he ever agree to this? Even if Mithian is having a good time, Arthur dreads the end of the night when she’ll expect him to kiss her and ask her out again. 

Frustrated, Arthur leans against the sink. How does he get himself into these situations? Everyone will expect him and Mithian to date now, will ask why he doesn’t want to if he breaks it off. Honestly, he isn’t sure why since he should like Mithian. She’s pretty and smart and can hold a decent conversation that doesn’t involve her clothes. Compared to Vivian, she should be a breath of fresh air, but that doesn’t explain the twisting in his gut at the thought of going out again.

The bathroom door swings open and Arthur straightens up abruptly, but it’s just Merlin. For a second, Merlin pauses and then heads for the sink, washing his hands. 

“Did you find Gwaine?” Arthur says, though he’s not sure why he’s asking. He couldn’t care less about Gwaine.

Merlin glances at him, an eyebrow raised. He turns towards him. “How’s your date going?”

“Fine,” Arthur says, pushing his hair back and frowning at himself. 

“Never thought Mithian was your type,” Merlin comments, drying his hands on his jeans. They’re another pair that seem impossibly tight. Arthur tears his eyes away from where they wander too close to Merlin’s crotch.

“Oh?” Arthur asks, a ripple of annoyance surfaces. “And what’s my type?”

They shouldn’t be doing this in the bathroom. In fact, they shouldn’t be doing it at all. Arthur isn’t supposed to associate with Merlin. 

Merlin shrugs. “Last I heard, it was self-centered blondes.”

“Well, that’s better than pretty-boy brunettes,” Arthur snaps, though he doesn’t know why. It’s the first thing he thinks of, and he doesn’t like the way Merlin’s lips quirk upward. 

Merlin glances at the door, and Arthur knows what’s coming before it happens. He doesn’t try to stop it when Merlin’s hand closes over his sleeve and yanks him into the nearest stall. The door fumbles closed, a flimsy lock, and Merlin’s hands close over his ass, dragging Arthur against him.

“It’s nice to know a brunette can catch your eye,” Merlin says, and Arthur doesn’t want to take the time to analyze that.

Merlin’s body presses against his, long and lean, mouth teasing Arthur, centimeters from his. Fuck. Mithian is waiting back in the bar, probably wondering why he’s taking so long, probably imagining their second date, but Arthur, Arthur is here. He’s here in this dirty stall with Merlin’s hips grinding into his, insistent in their movement, making all the blood rush downward. He isn’t thinking about Mithian as he smashes his mouth to Merlin’s and his hands find their way down, unsure but determined. 

He should be scared, pulling down Merlin’s zipper, but he just feels a rush as Merlin takes a sharp breath a second later as his hand curls around his cock.

Arthur has never had his hand around someone else’s cock. He hasn’t even seen Merlin’s, but it feels thick and hot against his palm.

“Fuck, hurry,” Merlin breathes, his mouth hot as it covers Arthur’s, lip ring sliding over his skin.

Arthur doesn’t need to be reminded of their precarious position. Anyone could walk in. _Lance_ could walk in. The thought springs Arthur to movement, jerking Merlin off as quickly as he can. He doesn’t take the proper time to marvel at the differences in jerking someone else off, though he does notice the way Merlin goes slack against him, mouth settling at the base of his neck as he breathes, hot and heavy, the occasional bit-back groan. Merlin’s hands on Arthur’s ass grip harder as his hips push up.

Arthur’s as hard as he’s ever been with Merlin sighing against him. He didn’t even know he could feel like this with someone else, that getting someone else off could be even better than getting off himself. He likes the way Merlin’s chin rests on his shoulder, mouth pressed to his neck as he moans and shudders in Arthur’s grip. It’s like his guard is down for just that split second when he comes. Something stirs in Arthur, a warm rustle that freaks him out.

Pulling his hand out, he grabs some toilet paper to clean up. He’s still hard, but he can’t stay in there. He stumbles away from Merlin, leaving Merlin to jerk upright, blinking slowly and looking flushed, pink spots on his cheeks. It gives him more colour than Arthur has ever seen him have. To his horror, Arthur finds himself thinking that Merlin is, dare he say it, cute?

Fumbling with the door, he gets it open and heads for the sink, scrubbing at his hand. Merlin follows after a second, zipping himself up.

“Gotta get back to your date,” Merlin says, watching Arthur in the mirror.

“Yeah,” Arthur replies shortly. He has to get out of there, away from Merlin, away from this feeling in his stomach. “I’ll, um, yeah.”

He leaves Merlin in the restroom, trying to get a grip the whole way back to the table where Mithian is chatting with Lance.

“There you are,” she says with a smile as Arthur slides into his seat. His erection has mostly gone down now. “Was starting to think you got lost.”

Arthur returns her smile. “Just ran into someone.” He takes a drink from his warm beer. There’s a lull in the bands on stage, and Arthur catches sight of Merlin emerging from the bathroom. Merlin heads for where Gwaine, Morgana, and Gwen sit. As he watches, Gwaine slings an arm around his shoulder and presses his mouth to Merlin’s ear. Something else, something more unpleasant, stirs in Arthur. Shaking himself, he turns to Mithian. “What are you doing on Friday?”

She looks surprised, but she blushes as she smiles. Arthur is determined to crush whatever feeling Merlin evokes in him, and he smiles back at Mithian and finishes his pint.

*

“Morgana tells me you’ve been seeing Mithian Rockfort,” Uther says over his evening newspaper, casting Arthur a glance when Arthur shoves a forkful of carrots into his mouth.

Morgana isn’t even at dinner, though Arthur has no idea where she is. She always manages to find an excuse not to be there when Uther is, and when he isn’t for that matter. Arthur can’t remember the last time they all sat down to dinner together. 

“Mm,” Arthur hums instead of answering. It’s only been a week since the pub, but the whole school knows they’re dating and even Uther has caught on. It isn’t as though Arthur has flaunted anything, but Mithian meets up with him for lunch and they’ve gone to the movies. Arthur hasn’t quite built up enough enthusiasm to kiss her, but he knows it’s coming. She’s going to be expecting it. Everyone will be.

Arthur isn’t going to say that he’s gay because he still appreciates certain things about women. Mithian is soft and pretty in a way that would make most blokes want to date her, but even so, Arthur finds himself wishing her hair was shorter, her hips slimmer. 

On the bright side, Merlin hasn’t approached him all week. At least something is going right.

Uther rustles the paper and it falls over at the top. “I’m pleased.”

Arthur looks up. It isn’t often he hears those words from his father. Usually, Uther finds fault with everything, from his schoolwork to the scores of the latest matches. 

“It’s high time you found a nice girl. That Vivian…” Uther’s face twitches as though he can’t even bring himself to say what he thinks of her. “If you need to borrow the car, let me know.”

Arthur stares for a second. It had taken him a whole week of convincing and promising Uther he wouldn’t damage the car when he wanted it for Vivian. It’s strange, Uther’s approval.

“Thank you,” he says finally, returning his gaze to his dinner. He wonders what would happen if he told Uther he wanted to take out a guy.

Stop it. That’s no way to think, he tells himself firmly. He hasn’t spoken to Merlin at all, and the only interaction they’ve had is Arthur staring at the back of his neck in class. He gets the feeling, or would if Merlin ever spoke to him, that Merlin is ignoring him.

That’s just as well as far as Arthur is concerned, except that he doesn’t like it. At all. It makes him angry at himself that he even cares, that somehow _Merlin_ makes him angry. The only solution is to stop thinking about Merlin and focus on Mithian. And that’s exactly what Arthur plans to do.

*

“How are things with Mithian?” Valiant asks, waggling his eyebrows in a way that makes Arthur want to punch him. “You shagged her yet?”

Arthur shuts his locker and sits on the bench to pull on his shoes. “Not everything is about sex.”

“A-k-a, no,” Valiant translates, propping up a knee and leaning forward. “You gotta get on that while it’s available, Pendragon.”

“I think I know what to do, Valiant,” Arthur replies coolly, tying his shoes tightly. He doesn’t need sex tips from a guy who probably hasn’t shagged half as many girls as he claims. Personally, Arthur isn’t sure what girls even see in him. 

“Right,” Valiant replies, though it sounds sarcastic to Arthur, who rises from the bench. Behind Valiant, Percy shakes his head imperceptibly and Arthur frowns.

“What do you call Vivian?” Arthur asks and Valiant snorts.

“Easy,” he replies, and even though Arthur knows what Vivian’s like, he doesn’t like the way Valiant means it.

“She wouldn’t sleep with you,” he points out, and as Valiant begins to loom, Arthur stares him down. “Either shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”

For a second, Arthur thinks Valiant might actually try something, but Arthur holds his ground. He is the captain, after all. Finally, Valiant jerks his shoulder.

“Don’t put off the shag too long or people might start to think something’s wrong.”

It hits a nerve, and Arthur is halfway to starting something he’ll regret when he realizes it’s exactly what Valiant wants. Instead, he pulls himself back and forces himself to laugh. He sees the annoyance in Valiant’s face.

“I could say the same thing to you,” he replies, grabbing his bag and swinging around. He makes it out of the locker room before his shoulders slump and he sighs. As much as he hates to admit it, Valiant has a point.

“Hey.”

Mithian pops up as Arthur leaves the locker room, bright and cheerful, and Arthur pulls himself together.

“Hey,” he replies, leaning in and kissing her cheek. “What are you doing here?”

“Just thought I’d stop by after practice.” She shrugs and falls into step beside him. “How was it?”

“Same as usual.” Arthur glances at her, the way she clasps her hands as they walk. She’s so nice. It kills him.

Outside, they walk down the stairs, across the lawn towards the street. The doors to the library opens and Arthur looks over to see Merlin emerging. His mind goes to a few weeks ago when he’d followed Merlin home. This time, though, Merlin isn’t alone as Gwaine bounces out after him, a cigarette already in hand. As he watches, Gwaine slides a hand around Merlin’s waist and leaves it there as they head off campus.

“Arthur?” Mithian asks when Arthur watches them go. She glances after them. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he assures her, reaching for her hand. His own feels clammy, but she doesn’t say anything. He isn’t fine. His stomach is twisted into knots, angry, growling, terrible-feeling knots. 

She doesn’t seem convinced, but she walks with him in the opposite direction of Merlin and Gwaine. 

“So I heard about this art gallery in London,” she says. “Some friends were thinking of going this weekend. I thought maybe you’d want to come along?”

Most art bores Arthur to tears, but the invitation isn’t about art. Even an idiot could see that. A part of Arthur really doesn’t want to go to London with Mithian, not in the way she’s expecting he’ll want to. The other part knows he has to say yes or else what Valiant said will come true. People will start to wonder why he isn’t shagging Mithian. 

“Sure,” he says despite the fact that the knots left by Merlin have now unraveled, leaving him feeling empty. 

“Great,” she says, beaming and squeezing his hand as they head towards her house. It’s on the way to Arthur’s, and they pause at the front steps for a moment.

This is it, Arthur knows. She’s waiting, clasping her hands, not quite meeting Arthur’s eyes. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Arthur says, deciding just to do it and get it over with. He steps up and kisses her. It’s not as bad as he’s been imagining, especially if he closes his eyes and pretends she has a lip ring.

She’s blushing when he steps back but she smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She unlocks the door and goes in with only one glance back. When the door shuts, Arthur turns and continues down the street, deflating once more. It’s bad enough that he has to deal with Valiant giving him shit, not to mention the feeling he gets whenever he thinks about Merlin, but now he has to convince Mithian that he can be a good boyfriend, and if he isn’t, everyone will know. 

Sighing, Arthur kicks a rock and it rolls into the street and lands in a puddle, just like the rest of his life.

*

Much to Arthur’s chagrin, Uther has nothing to say about going to London for the day and even hands Arthur the keys to the London flat, “in case of emergency.” For the probably thousandth time, Arthur wishes Uther was a normal parent who would forbid Arthur to stay in town with a girl. Instead, he finds himself at the train station early Saturday morning with Mithian and a few of her other friends. Arthur hasn’t bothered learning any of their names so far.

“What gallery is this?” Arthur asks as he checks his watch again. The train is late. 

“It’s a little place in Chelsea,” Mithian says. The location does nothing to recommend it in Arthur’s opinion. “They showcase upcoming talent. Elena went there a few weeks ago.”

“It’s wonderful,” the blond girl, who Arthur assumes is Elena, says eagerly, tucking back a curl. “And they rotate the artists every few weeks so there will be new artwork all the time.”

“Great,” Arthur says, trying to sound enthusiastic, but he must fail miserably because Mithian smiles pitiably at him.

“It won’t be that bad,” she promises, taking his arm. “There’s a great Thai restaurant nearby we can go to as well.”

The thought of food does perk Arthur up a bit and he’s less cross when the train finally comes in, twenty minutes delayed. The ride in is uneventful, and Arthur is privy to an argument about movie sequels and if they ever live up to the first. He keeps his mouth shut when someone mentions the Iron Man movies and checks his watch again.

It’s nearly noon by the time they get to the gallery. The sky is overcast and everyone around them seems to be focused on their destination, barreling ahead without looking up. Arthur gets knocked into too many times to count, and he’s relieved to get inside the gallery.

Elena makes a beeline for the paintings she saw last time, but Arthur goes with Mithian, listening to her commentary and occasionally agreeing. He really has no idea what he’s supposed to think. There are paintings mixed with drawings and even a section filled with strange metal sculptures. Arthur decides to stick to the pictures and wanders down a line of drawings that seem familiar somehow. They’re all blurred, somehow, how stage lights look when you’re drunk. There are definitive shapes in some, people, performers. 

“What do you think?”

Turning, Arthur stares at Merlin behind him. Of all the places, he wouldn’t have expected to find Merlin here. Then again, he wouldn’t expect to find himself here either.

“What are you—” he asks, but Mithian appears around the corner.

“Merlin,” she says, sounding as surprised as Arthur but much more courteous about it. “What are you doing here?”

Merlin shrugs, eyes still on Arthur as he rolls his lip ring around in his mouth and releases it slowly. Fucking, bugger fuck, Arthur thinks. He’s doing it on purpose. 

“Just checking out the exhibition.”

Mithian turns and takes in the pictures. “Are these yours?”

Merlin doesn’t reply. He slides his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. Arthur kind of hates him right now, for being here, for looking so good in those jeans. Arthur isn’t supposed to be thinking about Merlin. He’s supposed to be thinking about Mithian.

“They’re so good, Merlin!” Mithian says, smiling at him. “I had no idea.”

Merlin actually smiles back at Mithian, and it changes his entire face. Arthur swallows the lump rising in his throat as he watches Merlin. 

“Thanks.”

Mithian glances at Arthur. “Are you doing anything right now? We were going to get something to eat.”

Merlin pauses and Arthur pleads with God, or whatever deity is up there, that Merlin will say no and spare him. He’s not so lucky, though, when Merlin shrugs.

“Sure,” he agrees, and Mithian beams at him, squeezing Arthur’s arm. 

“I’ll go find the others,” she says, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s cheek and leaving. Merlin watches her go and turns back to Arthur.

“What are you playing at?” Arthur demands the minute she’s out of earshot.

“She invited me,” Merlin says. “Is that a problem?”

“We’re not supposed to be friends,” Arthur hisses and Merlin smiles sardonically.

“We’re not,” he reminds Arthur. “I can’t help what your girlfriend does. It’s just lunch. Not too much torture, is it?”

“No,” Arthur says abruptly. “It’s not.”

“Okay,” Merlin agrees, taking his hands from his pockets. 

Arthur takes a calming breath and turns from Merlin to find Mithian. It’s just lunch. He can handle lunch.

*

Lunch turns into shopping which turns into Arthur standing outside yet another store and checking the time. Merlin joins him not long after the girls have gone in. Arthur says nothing as Merlin pulls out a cigarette and lights it.

The whole day has been strange. Luckily, Mithian hasn’t noticed anything is off, but Arthur can’t stop himself from being distracted. It’s not his fault. Merlin is _there_ , always there, distracting him. 

“Mithian’s nice,” Merlin comments as they stand there. Arthur shivers in the chilly breeze coming down the street.

“Yes,” he agrees simply. Mithian is nice. She’s a nice, sweet, trusting girl that Arthur is using to distract himself from Merlin. He feels shitty. 

Merlin glances at him and takes a drag. “It’s been a few weeks.” Arthur looks over, frowning. “Since you started dating.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He looks away. “She’s great.”

Merlin hums in agreement, and for a moment, neither say anything. Arthur doesn’t know what to say. It isn’t like he and Merlin have anything other than secrets together, and between Merlin, Mithian, Valiant, and Morgana, Arthur doesn’t think he’ll ever have a normal life. 

“What about you?” Arthur asks finally. “Happy with Gwaine?”

Merlin contemplates the cigarette. “Can’t complain.”

Frowning, Arthur grabs the cigarette from Merlin’s fingers and takes a drag. The nicotine fills him, but it doesn’t calm him. Merlin watches him.

“If you want to hook up, just say so. Don’t keep making up excuses.”

“I—” Arthur starts but is cut off by the shop door opening and Mithian coming out, laden with bags. 

“Arthur,” she says brightly. “Look, I found this shirt that’s perfect for you.” She pulls out a henley tee and holds it up.

“Er, thanks,” he says, unsure how else to respond.

“We better get going,” she says. “The last train leaves in half an hour.”

Merlin says nothing but meets Arthur’s eye as he looks up.

“Um, actually,” Arthur says, mouth moving before his brain can catch up. “My dad just called. He needs me to pick something up at his office. Why don’t you go ahead? He’s going to send a car.”

Uther never sends cars, but Mithian doesn’t know that.

“Oh,” she says, sounding disappointed. “Well, I guess I’ll see you on Monday. Call me when you get back.”

“Okay,” Arthur agrees, kissing her quickly. 

“Merlin?” she asks as they turn for the underground station. “Are you coming?”

“My mum’s in town,” Merlin says. “I’m riding back with her.”

“Well, don’t get in too much trouble,” she says, waving as they leave.

Before long, Arthur is left with Merlin on the sidewalk. Merlin snuffs out the cigarette under his toe and glances at Arthur.

“Did you happen to think this through?”

Arthur doesn’t even know what he just did, sending Mithian home, staying here with Merlin, but he pulls the flat key out of his pocket. 

“I have somewhere we can stay.”

*

Uther keeps a flat in London for those nights he doesn’t get away from the office early enough, and, Arthur suspects, for the days he can’t stand to come home to Morgana’s drama. Arthur almost doesn’t blame him.

The flat is kept immaculate, cleaned regularly by a maid Arthur has never seen. There are bottles of water in the fridge and two hundred channels on the television, not that Arthur pays attention to any of it as he lets himself in and Merlin follows. 

“Holy shit,” Merlin breathes as he steps inside, eyes traveling over the expensive furniture, the Persian rug, shiny silver appliances in the kitchen nook. 

Arthur dumps his jacket on a chair and kicks off his shoes. He isn’t quite sure what they’re doing there, only that he ditched his girlfriend to do it. 

Turning, he hesitates by the sofa. It’s strange, being alone with Merlin, completely alone. There’s no danger of parents coming home, of someone walking in, of someone seeing them together. Merlin finally takes in everything there is to see, or at least, decides he’s seen enough, and turns to Arthur.

“So,” he says, taking off his jacket and leaving it with Arthur’s. “You have a lovely girlfriend.”

“Can we not talk about that?” Arthur asks as Merlin steps closer.

Merlin tilts his head to the side. “Why not? She is your girlfriend.”

“Then let’s talk about Gwaine,” Arthur says, bristling.

“What about him?”

“Are you dating?”

Merlin brushes his fingers over the globe sitting on a table. “What does that matter?”

“Just answer the question.”

Merlin sweeps his hair down over his eyes. “Just admit that you are jealous.”

“I am not jealous,” Arthur says, annoyed now. He let Mithian go home alone so he could argue with Merlin over this again? “Gwaine is just uncouth, boorish, ridiculous.”

“You don’t even know him,” Merlin points out. “Gwaine happens to be a great friend. Something you wouldn’t know much about considering the company you keep.”

Arthur can’t even argue. Most of the guys on the team are completely meatheads aside from a select few. 

“So you’re not dating?” he asks instead, and Merlin sighs, rolling his eyes. It’s probably the most emotion Arthur has gotten out of him so far. 

“If I say no, will you shut up and fucking kiss me?” Merlin asks, toeing off his shoes and stepping up to Arthur.

A shiver of anticipation runs through Arthur, unlike anything he’s ever had with Mithian. He shouldn’t, but he wants to, especially when Merlin’s mouth downturns into a frown. 

Instead of kissing Merlin, Arthur reaches over and pushes Merlin’s hair out of his eyes, messing it up, revealing his face, bright blue eyes. Merlin only lowers an eyebrow and lets Arthur pull him in to kiss him.

It’s been weeks since Arthur kissed Merlin, and it feels like it. His whole body seems to ache as Merlin’s mouth opens to his, tongue sliding against his, lips pressed together. Merlin’s hands slide into his hair, seemingly determined to mess it up as much as Arthur messed his. Merlin is pliant, though, letting Arthur step him back, guide him towards a bedroom. Arthur doesn’t care which bedroom. He just wants Merlin on a vertical surface that isn’t the floor.

For the first time, they leave a trail of clothes behind them. Merlin tugs Arthur’s shirt up, over his head, and leaves it on the rug as they go. It makes Arthur pause, suddenly aware of what they’re doing, where this is leading. Now is his chance to stop it before it goes too far. Though he hesitates at the bedroom door, distracted by Merlin’s hands sliding over his torso, breaking the kiss to pant for breath, he doesn’t stop it.

Merlin’s cheeks are flushed, lips reddened and full. Merlin doesn’t speak when Arthur hesitates. He merely slides a hand up Arthur’s chest, ghosting over a nipple that makes Arthur squirm. He presses his mouth to Arthur’s jaw, nipping a trail down his neck until Arthur doesn’t remember why this is a bad idea.

Reaching behind Merlin, Arthur fumbles for the doorknob and pushes the door open. They stumble into the darkened room, the guest room that probably hasn’t been used since the last time Arthur came into the city. He doesn’t come to London much - there’s really no need, but the room is there just the same.

Merlin falls onto the bed first, bouncing on the mattress and pulling off his shirt while Arthur gets his socks off and takes a minute to panic as he realizes just what he’s doing. He catches sight of Merlin, though, and the panic vanishes.

The tattoo, the one Arthur has only see in pieces on Merlin’s neck, extends all the way down his arm and partially onto his rib cage. One part is a winding dragon, but in between the curled wings are other, smaller pictures that Arthur is too far away to make out. The tattoo is a spread of colours: black, red, green, all mixing together in the right way.

Sitting on the bed, Merlin sucks his lip ring into his mouth, leaning back on his elbows. He doesn’t look nervous, but if Arthur looks closer, there’s a slight tremor there. 

Kneeling on the bed, Arthur hesitates again, but Merlin takes control, pulling Arthur on top of him and snogging him so thoroughly that Arthur has to gasp for breath in between kisses. He lets his hands wander freely over Merlin’s skin. He can’t feel any evidence of the tattoos, but he knows they’re there. Merlin’s body is thin but strong under his fingers.

As he explores Merlin’s chest, Arthur’s mind flick to Gwaine’s hand around Merlin’s waist. A flare of jealousy rears within him at the thought. His fingers tighten over Merlin’s hips and he kisses Merlin hard. It’s a bit messy, sliding tongues and biting teeth. Beneath him, Merlin lets out a breathy moan, something so different than what Arthur is used to.

Arthur’s hair is mussed, cheeks flushed, body overheating even in the chilly apartment. He’s never been this turned on, this hard, and he knows it’s all because of Merlin. The thought is scary, and he swallows hard as he pulls away to take in Merlin. Up close, he can see every detail of the dragon, and he drags his fingers over Merlin’s rib cage. Merlin squirms under the touch, watching Arthur closely. 

The only time Arthur did anything else like this, he was with Vivian and she hadn’t given him much time to look. Merlin doesn’t hurry him along, lying beneath him like he’d be content to stay like that forever, except Arthur can feel Merlin’s growing erection against his. This isn’t going to be like some romance novel sex scene or a movie’s fade-to-black moment. This is real.

Leaning in, Arthur licks up Merlin’s sternum, circling his tongue around a nipple and sucking. Merlin makes a choked sort of noise, his hand curling around Arthur’s neck as his body arches up. 

Arthur’s jeans are uncomfortably tight, and he can only imagine what Merlin’s feeling, considering his jeans are ten times smaller than Arthur’s. This is the farthest they’ve ever gone, and Arthur almost can’t believe it. Sliding down, he leaves Merlin’s nipple, red and hard, pressing kisses to Merlin’s stomach, hesitating when he reaches the waistband of his jeans.

Even though it’s been three months since the first time they snogged, it’s still strange and new, and Arthur isn’t entirely sure what he’s doing or why.

“Jeans,” Merlin says when Arthur hesitates too long. He’s out of breath, and Arthur feels a small surge of pride. It’s overridden by the immediate feeling of nervousness as he licks his lips and reaches for Merlin’s zipper.

He gets them open and tugs them down, but it’s a challenge. How in the world does Merlin get them on in the morning? Finally, he gets them off completely, and then there’s only a thin piece of fabric separating Arthur from Merlin’s cock. He can see the outline and he almost feels excited at the hard outline against the underwear. He caused that. He’s responsible for the way Merlin groans impatiently and drags him up.

To Arthur’s surprise, Merlin rolls them over so he’s on top. For such a scrawny guy, he’s got some weight to him. His hips sink into Arthur’s, a perfect alignment that makes Arthur suck in a sharp breath at the friction against his prick. 

Arthur has a hard time focusing completely as heat steals over his body as Merlin rocks his hips down, a slow, steady rhythm that makes Arthur squeeze his eyes shut, hands landing on Merlin’s bare thighs. 

Merlin’s mouth, his glorious mouth, glides down Arthur’s chest, pausing here and there to lap at the skin, to make Arthur moan and cling to his skin. As he moves, Arthur’s hands go to his waist, fingers digging into it. 

It’s unlike anything Arthur has done. With Vivian, this had all seemed tedious, like she didn’t want to bother, and Arthur hadn’t argued. With Merlin, he wants Merlin to go slower, to take more time to bring him to the edge until he can’t take it anymore. Merlin’s in control this time, pushing his hand against the bulge in Arthur’s jeans, squeezing his prick through the fabric until Arthur just wants them off, wants Merlin’s hand on him for real, wants anything.

Merlin’s tongue swirls over his hip bone, the V leading under his jeans, but Merlin’s hands are busy with the zipper, pulling it down, shoving the jeans off. They’re practically naked, and Arthur lifts his head to watch Merlin run his hand over his cock through his boxers. It’s so close to perfect. Then Merlin’s mouth descends, mouthing over the fabric until it’s wet, until Arthur’s cock is dripping with precum and he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll last. 

Only then does Merlin pull down his boxers, releasing Arthur’s prick. Arthur thinks he should feel embarrassed, but he can’t bring himself to care when Merlin takes him in his mouth.

Arthur’s mind goes blank, a whiteout of thoughts as Merlin’s mouth, hot and wet, slick with spit and precum, slides over his cock, a tight cocoon. His toes curl and words don’t make any sense as they spill out of him, a mixture of curses and Merlin’s name. 

The one time Vivian did this for him, she’d complained the whole time afterward about it being disgusting. The blow job hadn’t been much better. Arthur barely remembers it except that parts of it had hurt. This doesn’t hurt at all. Merlin’s mouth on his prick is like heaven, wet and smooth, his hand jerking Arthur off in rhythm with his mouth. He feels the flat of Merlin’s tongue slide over his cock and he chokes on his own breath.

He can barely think straight as Merlin sucks him off, a little messy but never painful, enthusiastic but reserved. His stomach twists itself as the pressure builds, and he tries to push Merlin off before he comes, but Merlin doesn’t budge, licking and sucking as Arthur curses loudly and pushes his hips into Merlin’s mouth.

Closing his eyes, Arthur pants for breath as he comes, unable to focus on anything other than the wetness of Merlin’s mouth, the heat racing across his skin. He doesn’t even feel Merlin pull away, doesn’t notice until Merlin is there, body pressed to his, cock poking into his thigh.

“Shit,” Arthur breathes, opening his eyes slowly, finding Merlin there, eyes half-lidded, lips pink and puffy. Reaching up, Arthur glides a thumb along Merlin’s lips before he can stop himself. Pulling Merlin in, he kisses him. He doesn’t know why, why he angles his head to kiss him deeper, he just knows that he wants to.

Moving his hand down, Arthur slides it under Merlin’s briefs, wrapping around his cock and pulling. He shoves the underwear down to Merlin’s thighs, ducking his head for a moment to look. Merlin’s cock is hard and heavy in his hand, dark from the blood. Merlin’s moan in his ear brings Arthur’s gaze back up, and he kisses Merlin as he comes, jerking into his hand, come covering Arthur’s thighs, warm and wet.

“Yeah,” Merlin breathes, gritting his teeth as he pulls back. “Fuck, Arthur.”

It’s the first time Merlin’s said his name like that, just a breath, two syllables, but it makes Arthur’s stomach jump. Arthur has no idea what he’s doing, he realizes, as he feels Merlin shudder, hot breath against his neck as Merlin’s body relaxes. No idea.

*

They order pizza after they’ve cleaned up, and Arthur shoves the first DVD he can find into the player. He doesn’t know what to say when Merlin wanders out of the bedroom wearing only his jeans. Merlin pads over to the couch and drops down, propping his feet on the coffee table.

Despite what they’ve been doing for the past couple months, Arthur doesn’t think they’ve had an actual conversation.

“Your drawings are pretty good,” Arthur says, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from Merlin. 

“They’re alright,” Merlin says with a shrug. His fingers twitch like he wants a cigarette, but he doesn’t pull one out. “Mithian dragged you there, didn’t she?”

“What makes you say that?”

Merlin smirks. “Arthur Pendragon going willingly to an art gallery? There’s irony for you.”

Arthur crosses his arms. “I could be into art.”

“You’re not.”

“I could be,” he insists, but Merlin laughs for a second, tongue flicking over his lip ring.

“But you’re not,” he repeats. “You’re into sports and dating girls.” He arches his eyebrows at Arthur.

Arthur doesn’t have an argument for that. “Well, you’re into art and Gwaine.”

“Jesus,” Merlin says, shaking his head. “How many times do I have to tell you that we’re not dating? He likes someone else.”

“Who?” Arthur demands. He can’t believe that Gwaine would like anyone else with the way he hangs on Merlin constantly.

“Can’t tell you that,” Merlin says, picking at his nail polish. “Friend confidentiality clause.”

“Don’t hook-ups supersede that clause?” Arthur asks, uncrossing his arms and leaning towards Merlin.

Merlin thinks for a second but shakes his head. “Sorry, you’d have to upgrade to boyfriend for that information.”

Arthur sits back. He can’t answer that. He doesn’t even know what he wants with Merlin, and the word boyfriend is just too much to handle. 

“When did you get your tattoos?” he asks instead, changing the subject. Merlin doesn’t seem to notice, extending his arm and checking them out.

“My mum let me when I was sixteen,” he says. “The dragon anyway. The rest, I’ve had done since I turned eighteen a couple months ago.”

Arthur can’t even imagine what Uther would have said if he’d wanted to get a tattoo at sixteen. There was no way he would have signed off on it. 

“Did they hurt?”

“In certain places.” Merlin draws a line across his ribs where the dragon’s body sits. Arthur has a sudden urge to press his hand to Merlin’s stomach, but they’re across the couch from each other. That, at least, stops Arthur from doing something stupid. 

He barely knows Merlin, he reminds himself. Then again, he barely knows Mithian either and they’ve spent several dates talking about each other. How is it any different? He knows what Merlin sounds like when he comes, what Merlin’s body feels like pressed to his, how he likes things a little rough.

“So where are you going to Uni?” Merlin asks when silence falls between them. Reaching up, he brushes his hair down - it’s still mussed from earlier, and Arthur finds he prefers it this way.

“Dunno.” Arthur sighs. “My dad wants me to go to Oxford, like he did.”

“It’s a decent school.”

Arthur laughs at Merlin’s reaction. “Some would say the best.”

“Best is relative.” Merlin brings his knees up to his chest, feet resting on the couch. Uther would have a fit if he knew.

“You’re going to art school, then?” Arthur asks, scooting closer to Merlin on the pretense of grabbing the remote.

Merlin scrunches his nose slightly. “Maybe.”

“But you’re an artist.”

Merlin’s mouth quirks. “Don’t have to go to art school to do that.”

“Yeah, but you should.” Arthur skips the previews on the DVD. 

“School isn’t always the answer,” Merlin replies, dropping his knees. His leg nudges Arthur’s.

“Is if you ask my dad,” Arthur mutters. He wonders what would happen if he told Uther he didn’t want to go to University, or worse, he didn’t want to go to Oxford. Probably something terrible.

“Maybe he needs some enlightenment.”

Arthur glances up as the DVD starts to play. Deep down, Arthur knows that no matter what he says, he’ll be going to University next fall, whether it’s Oxford or somewhere he actually wants to go.

“Maybe,” he agrees, though, gazing at Merlin.

The moment seems suspended, just the two of them looking at each other. Merlin’s leg presses to Arthur’s but Arthur doesn’t move. In that moment, he just sees Merlin with his messy hair, eyeliner smudged, the glint of silver off his piercing. 

A knock at the door interrupts the moment and Arthur jerks back to himself. 

“That’ll be the pizza,” he says, climbing off the couch and going to answer the door. Merlin watches him go but turns back to the TV as Arthur opens the door.

*

Arthur isn’t really watching the movie, not with Merlin sitting next to him, close enough that their legs touch and Merlin brushes against him as he reaches for another slice of pizza. It’s a strange situation, and certainly not one Arthur ever expected to find himself in. It’s already eight by the time he remembers he’s supposed to call Mithian.

Pulling out his cell phone, he can’t avoid touching Merlin’s thigh. Merlin glances at him but says nothing as he gets the phone out and dials Mithian’s number.

“Mithian, hey,” he says, acutely aware of Merlin’s eyes on him. “Yeah, I was just calling to let you know I got home okay.”

He feels bad lying to her, especially when she’s so nice about it. Beside him, Merlin finishes his pizza and leans back against the couch, fiddling with his hair. He doesn’t try to distract Arthur or interrupt. 

“I’m busy tomorrow,” Arthur says in response to Mithian’s question about hanging out. “But I’ll see you on Monday.” He hangs up a few minutes later and pauses, glancing at Merlin. “You need to phone anyone?”

Merlin jerks his head. “No.”

“Where’s your mum?” Arthur has never heard anything about Merlin’s dad and he wonders if he has one.

“Working. She’s pulling a double shift tonight,” Merlin replies. “Won’t be home till tomorrow late.”

“Where does she work?” Arthur frowns. Even when Uther works late, he doesn’t work all night. He may not come home, but that’s because Arthur thinks he prefers the quiet, drama-free environment of the London flat. 

“Hospital. She’s a nurse.” Merlin grabs his bottle of water off the table and takes a drink. 

“So she’s not home a lot?” It’s strange to think that Merlin can have a parent like Arthur’s.

“She tries,” Merlin replies, setting down the bottle. “She’s home as much as she can be.”

Maybe Merlin’s mum isn’t like Uther, Arthur thinks. Uther doesn’t try to come home, not since the whole paternity debacle. Maybe he figures it’s easier to stay away and let Morgana rule the roost. Arthur isn’t sure which way is better. When Uther is there, he’s constantly poking his nose into Arthur’s life, but when he isn’t, Arthur has to do everything on his own and deal with Morgana.

“Is that the reason for…” Arthur gestures vaguely at Merlin, intending to say something about the way he dresses, the tattoos, the piercing.

“For?” Merlin prompts, arching a skeptical eyebrow. “You know, Morgana says you think punk is about worshiping Satan.”

“I was kidding,” Arthur says, rolling his eyes. “I just don’t get it. Why would you want to look like that?”

“Like what?” Merlin asks, and though he says it casually, Arthur can hear something else behind it. Merlin leans in closer. “You don’t you like my tattoos?”

“No, I—”

“You don’t like my piercing?” Merlin interrupts, and his hand slides up Arthur’s thigh, a warm pressure. Arthur blinks and tries to focus. He knows what Merlin’s doing and it’s not going to work.

Grabbing Merlin’s wrist, he pulls it away from where his hand creeps closer to his crotch. “You know what I mean. Everyone thinks you’re weird.”

“I am,” Merlin agrees, eyes serious. “But I’d rather be weird and happy than normal and depressed.”

“I’m not depressed,” Arthur argues, but Merlin shakes his head.

“Didn’t say you were.”

Arthur’s said too much. Releasing Merlin’s wrist, he sits back against the couch. His eyes are on the TV, but he isn’t watching the movie. Someday, it might get out just how unhappy he is. He isn’t looking forward to that day.

He doesn’t look away from the television until Merlin’s hand pulls his chin around. Merlin doesn’t say anything, just leans in and kisses him. It’s softer than all their other kisses, slow and lingering in a way that gives Arthur butterflies in his chest as Merlin pulls back.

“What was that for?” he asks, voice low.

Merlin sits back. “Wanted to.”

Arthur finds himself smiling as he settles into the couch and finally turns his attention to the movie.

*

It’s nearly eleven when Arthur suggests they get to bed. For a second, he hesitates as he stands. There are two bedroom doors off the living room. Merlin doesn’t even ask but pads into the guest room from before. Arthur follows him, stopping by the door.

“There’s another room,” he says, watching Merlin strip down to his underwear. “If you want to…”

“This is fine,” Merlin says as though the other room isn’t even an option.

Stepping inside, Arthur shuts the door behind him. He isn’t sure why the thought of sleeping in the same bed with Merlin makes him more nervous than anything else they’ve done. Taking off his jeans, he leaves his shirt on and moves over to the side of the bed. Merlin is already under the covers, pushing at the pillow.

Arthur pulls back the comforter and slides in. He’s never shared a bed with anyone before and it’s a strange feeling when he can feel the bed shift with Merlin. 

“I don’t transform into a monster at night,” Merlin says when Arthur remains on the edge of the bed.

“I know,” Arthur says, but that doesn’t help the feeling growing in him. He scoots over a bit more so if he rolls over, he won’t fall off the edge. 

“Arthur,” Merlin says as they lay down and Arthur clicks off the lamp. It’s easier in the darkness, easier to relax.

“Yeah?”

“Do you like Mithian?”

For a moment, Arthur doesn’t reply. It’s a complicated question. He only went out with Mithian to get his mind off Merlin, yet here he is, lying in bed with Merlin after spending the whole evening with him. 

“She’s nice, I guess,” Arthur says, though that doesn’t answer the question. He feels Merlin shift, can see his outline as he rolls onto his side to face Arthur.

“Were you dating her to make me jealous?”

Arthur scowls. “No.”

“’Cause I don’t get jealous,” Merlin says, inching forward until he’s pressed against Arthur. Arthur doesn’t pull away, a hand moving to Merlin’s waist and resting there gently. This is so different than anything he’s done before. 

“Mithian’s a good person,” Arthur says, though he can’t say the same thing about himself. 

“She is,” Merlin agrees. His fingers ghost down Arthur’s neck, making the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. Every touch is so much more intimate than before. Arthur tries not to think about what that means. 

“I’m still dating her.” Arthur forces the words out as Merlin’s fingers trail over his shoulder blade.

Merlin’s mouth presses against Arthur’s in a silent answer, and Arthur finds he doesn’t care what it means that his stomach flutters hopefully. His hand slides into Merlin’s hair as they kiss, softly, slowly, in the dark. Arthur is so screwed, but he can’t bring himself to care, pressing into Merlin and kissing him until they both drift off to sleep.

*

Something is different. Arthur feels it in the morning when he wakes to find Merlin sprawled next to him on the bed, a leg flung over his. He feels it as he scrounges for food and Merlin emerges to the living room, yawning and stretching, only half-dressed.

“We’re not dating,” he says when they sit at the table, snacking on dry cereal because they have no milk.

Merlin looks up, nonplussed. “Uh huh,” he says, and Arthur wishes he would put on a shirt because he keeps getting distracted by Merlin’s skin.

It almost annoys Arthur, Merlin’s lack of response. Doesn’t he feel the weird shift between them?

“I’m still with Mithian.”

Merlin continues to eat, stirring the cereal with his fingers. Arthur doesn’t know what to say to get a response.

“ _This_ was just a mistake.”

Finally, Merlin raises his head. Without saying a word, he pushes his chair back and rounds the table. Arthur pushes his chair back to stand up, but Merlin moves swiftly into his lap, preventing him from moving.

“Just stop,” Merlin says when Arthur opens his mouth to protest. His fingers curl around the back of Arthur’s neck. “Do you want to keep hooking up?”

Yes, Arthur thinks first but he doesn’t say it. Merlin seems to know anyway despite how Arthur avoids looking at him, instead, trying to think of a way to unseat him.

“Get off me,” Arthur says but he doesn’t try to escape. He could easily push Merlin off if he wanted to.

“Tell me the truth,” Merlin says. “Or I’ll call up Gwaine and ask him out.”

Arthur glares. He doesn’t know if Merlin would, but he wouldn’t put it past him just to spite Arthur. 

“Don’t you feel it?” Arthur asks finally, and when Merlin frowns, he sighs. “Something’s changed.”

“Changed how?”

Arthur can’t explain it. His hand comes up to rest on Merlin’s thigh. This, just sitting here, is different, with Merlin in his lap and him not hating it. 

“I can’t tell anyone,” Arthur says instead. “We can’t _date_. I can’t break up with Mithian.”

For a moment, Merlin says nothing, chewing on his lip ring. Arthur hopes he understands what he means. 

“So you want to keep hooking up?” Merlin asks at length. “But you’re going to keep dating Mithian.”

“I have to.” Arthur can’t break up with her now, not for no reason, at least not for a reason he can’t give. 

“Alright,” Merlin says and Arthur looks up.

“Alright?”

Merlin shifts in his lap and presses his forehead to Arthur’s. “You’ve been a jerk lately, and unfortunately, I kind of like you. Besides, I really don’t fancy Morgana catching wind of this either, but no more flaunting Mithian in my face, huh?”

“I didn’t…” Arthur starts but stop himself. He did. “Fine. No more Gwaine hanging all over you.”

“I can’t control him,” Merlin points out, but on Arthur’s look, he sighs. “I’ll have a talk. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Arthur says, though he isn’t really sure what he’s just agreed to. 

“Good.” Merlin kisses him quickly and climbs off his lap. As he takes his seat across the table, Arthur catches the small smile on Merlin’s face, and it makes him feel giddy despite the secrecy this is going to entail in the future.

*

“How was your weekend?” Lance asks in class Monday morning as Arthur takes his seat. Merlin isn’t there yet, his seat empty near the front.

“Not bad,” Arthur replies, thinking of Sunday morning, the train ride back to town with Merlin sitting next to him, pretending to look out the window but letting his hand creep ever higher on his thigh until they went to the bathroom and got each other off.

The real world isn’t as good, though, and Arthur dreads seeing Mithian. He’ll have to pretend that everything is fine. 

“I went to another battle of the bands,” Lance says. “Did you know Gwen is in a band?”

“Gwen?” Arthur repeats skeptically. It’s hard enough to see her, the rosy-cheeked girl from primary school, in goth Lolita garb with spiked chokers. Putting her in a band is a step too far.

“She plays the bass,” Lance says brightly, and Arthur stares at him for a long moment. Why didn’t he see it sooner?

“Lance,” he says, but the bell rings and the last of the late-comers shuffle in. Merlin is one of the last, sliding into his seat and not glancing back at Arthur. 

“Alright,” Agrevaine says, clapping his hands together. “Today we start differential equations.”

There’s a collective groan and Agrevaine seems gleeful as he turns to the board. Arthur’s thoughts are torn between Lance and Merlin, though, and he resigns himself to a difficult lesson.

*

Arthur isn’t interested in his lunch, and Valiant is off on a tangent about defense. He’s surprised by Mithian coming up behind him, jumping when her hands land on his shoulder.

“Jumpy,” she says with a smile, sitting down where the Lance slides over to let her sit. “You didn’t call me yesterday.”

“Oh,” Arthur says, aware of everyone’s eyes on him. He can’t imagine that his relationship with Mithian is that interesting, but considering he’s one of the few in a relationship, maybe it shouldn’t be so surprising. “I slept late and then I had lots of homework for Agrevaine.”

“I could have helped you,” she says, linking her arm with his. “I’m in Calculus II.”

Arthur didn’t even know they had a higher levels of maths. “Next time,” he promises. “I’ll ask you.”

She smiles. “I was thinking, on Friday, if you don’t have practice, we could go catch an early movie and maybe take a walk through the park.”

Across the table, Valiant waggles his eyebrows at Arthur, who tries to ignore him. 

“Sure,” he says, though the thought of what might happen in the park twists his stomach in knots. He has to be confident, though, so he slides an arm over her shoulders. “I’d love to.”

He ignores Valiant’s sneer and focuses on what Lance is saying instead. It’s just one date he has to get through. He smiles at Mithian when she glances at him, but on the inside, he’s just thinking of Merlin and when he’ll get to see him next.

*

The whole week is kind of a blur, between practice and school, Arthur barely sees Merlin at all except in class. He doesn’t approach him in the halls or follow him home. He doesn’t really have time. The only thing he has time for is to diffuse a fight between Valiant and Morgana when Valiant decides he needs to hit on her again.

“If your brain were as big as your prick, we wouldn’t even be having this discussion,” Morgana says as they stand outside under the same tree as usual. “You’d be in a hospital for mental deficiencies.”

“Valiant,” Arthur says, stepping in between him and Morgana. “Let it go.”

“Defend your team,” Morgana spits at Arthur. “Without their fearless leader, how would they ever make any decisions?”

“Morgana,” Arthur says, turning to her, frustrated by both of them. He can’t control everyone around him. Behind Morgana, Gwen is whispering in Merlin’s ear and Merlin looks serious as he watches. 

Morgana’s hands fly to her hips and Arthur knows there’s no winning. “Don’t try to tell me anything, Arthur,” she says. “Why don’t you tell your lackeys to grow a pair and get it through their thick skulls that I’m not for sale?”

“With an outfit like that,” Valiant sneers. “You don’t have to advertise.”

Arthur has been on the receiving end of Morgana’s slaps before, and he winces at the crack as her palm makes contact with Valiant’s face. 

“Fucking bitch!” Valiant snaps, taking a lunging step forward. Even as Arthur gets in between them, Owen and Percy seize Valiant’s arms and yank him back.

Morgana merely glares as they haul him away, arms crossed. 

Arthur sighs. “Can’t you just leave things alone?” he asks her and she turns her glare on him.

“It’s not my fault your friends are misogynistic assholes who thinks every woman should get on their hands and knees and worship them. Why don’t you tell Valiant to fuck off and get a clue?”

Arthur has. Repeatedly. It never seems to make a difference. He hates to even qualify Valiant as a friend.

“Arthur, let’s go,” Lance says, reaching for his arm and tugging him back. There’s nothing Arthur can say to Morgana to make this better, so he turns and leaves her under the tree. He can only hope that one of them will learn to stop stirring shit up. He doubts it, but a guy can dream.

*

Arthur can’t help it as he hovers in the halls after class, after everyone has gone home, but he suspects he’ll find Merlin in the library. It’s been a while since he’s been to the library, and Gaius, the aging librarian casts him a suspicious look as he enters. He probably thinks Arthur is a strange kid sneaking into the library to get out of the rain.

It’s practically a ghost town inside, deadly silent except the occasional cough from a corner. Arthur feels like he’s in a funeral home as he slinks through the aisles, trying not to appear obvious as he looks for Merlin. He finally spots him, sitting at a back table, scribbling in a notebook. He’s definitely writing this time, not drawing like he does in class.

Pretending to browse the mythology section, Arthur inches closer to Merlin. Not that there’s anyone in the library who would be paying attention to them. At the end of the row, he clears his throat, glancing over his shoulder as Merlin raises his head. He knows Merlin sees him even if Merlin returns to his notebook.

A crumpled piece of paper lands near his feet and Arthur checks around before snatching it up.

_Follow me_ , it reads. Arthur stuffs the note in his pocket and rounds to the other side of the aisle. Through the books, he can see Merlin packing up his notebook and slinging his bag over his shoulder. Merlin leaves for the east exit instead of the front door.

Arthur follows slowly, feeling kind of stupid as he slinks through different rows than Merlin and slides out the door. Merlin isn’t there that Arthur can see when he steps into the rain on the backside of the library. For a moment, he looks around, but then he catches sight of Merlin’s bag leaning against a tree. Rounding the tree, he finds Merlin fiddling with his lighter, flicking the flame on and off.

The tree does little to shelter them from the drizzle overhead.

“I’m sorry about Valiant,” Arthur says when Merlin doesn’t speak. 

“Why are you friends with him?”

Sighing, Arthur leans against the tree. “I’m the captain.”

“So you have to be friends with everyone on the team?”

Not exactly. “Everyone has to respect me which is easiest to do when they trust me.”

“So you never lie to them?” Merlin flicks the lighter on again.

“That’s not fair.” 

Merlin flicks off the lighter and turns to Arthur. “You’re right. Sorry. I just can’t stand Valiant.”

“You’re not alone,” Arthur agrees. “It’d be a hell of a lot easier if he could keep his mouth shut. Morgana is not the type to take things lying down.”

Merlin actually laughs at that. “That’s true.”

Normally, Arthur wouldn’t even bother explaining himself to anyone, but he wants Merlin to know that he doesn’t condone Valiant’s actions. Valiant is reckless and stupid, and it’s going to get him in big trouble if he doesn’t cut it out. 

“Morgana hates him,” Merlin says after a minute, sliding the lighter back in his pocket. “Says he thinks the world owes him a girlfriend.”

“Some guys are like that.”

“I like to think that if people are meant to be, it’ll work out in the end.”

“Maybe,” Arthur agrees. He doesn’t really know how he feels about love. He’s never been in love himself. 

Merlin smiles at him, a half-quirk to his mouth. “I’ve got to get home,” he says, “good luck with Valiant.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Arthur deadpans. He doubts there’s much he can do there aside from keeping him from boiling over.

“I’m sure you can handle it,” Merlin says, checking around the tree quickly before kissing Arthur, lingering for a second against his lips before pulling away. “See you later.”

Arthur turns as Merlin leaves, sneaking back into the library. A fat drop of water falls from a leaf on his shoulder as he stands under the tree. It’s weird, having Merlin kiss him like that, like they’re dating. He knows they’re not, not really, but it still kind of feels like it, and it doesn’t stop the thrill that runs through him as he grabs his bag and heads for home.

*

All through the movie, Arthur can’t concentrate. Instead, he’s thinking about Mithian’s hand in his, the scent of her perfume assaulting his nostrils, the thought of what’s going to happen after the movie, what she’s expecting to happen.

It was easier before, with Vivian, before he’d even entertained the thought of liking blokes as well. It’s not even so much that Mithian is a girl as he’d rather be here with Merlin. The thought doesn’t scare him anymore. It just makes things more complicated.

Arthur manages to make it through the movie, but if asked, he couldn’t say what it was about. Luckily, Mithian doesn’t ask, just takes his hand as they leave the cinema and head for the park. There are only a few parks in town, but this is one of the bigger ones that spans a few acres, filled with trees, ponds, and ducks.

Only a few street lamps illuminate the path as they walk. Even though they’re alone, Arthur feels like he’s being watched.

“When you first asked me out,” Mithian says as they follow the little winding path around the lake, “I thought you were going to be like all the other guys who ask me out.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “Just, rushing things. You’ve been very polite.”

It isn’t a compliment Arthur would normally appreciate from someone he’s supposed to like. Normally, it would mean Mithian thinks he’s boring and moves too slowly. This time, he takes it as a good sign that she thinks he moves slowly. Maybe she won’t be expecting too much.

“Well, you did just break up with Elyan.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “But it’s more than that. You respect me.”

Respect. There’s that word again. Respect and trust. Arthur feels a rush of guilt as they walk. He’s lying to Mithian. He’s lying to everyone. What can he do, though? If it gets out that he and Merlin are… whatever they are, the team will think he’s gone mental. Who wants to be on a team with a mental captain?

“I really appreciate that,” she says, and Arthur returns her smile, though it’s forced.

They go around a bend, past a small grove of trees, the lake on the other side. Arthur’s mind wanders to a month ago when Merlin pushed him into the grove by his house. He almost doesn’t notice when Mithian stops walking, gazing out at the lake.

“It’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

Arthur jerks backward to come to her side. The moon rises over the lake and a duck quacks somewhere in front of them. “Yeah,” he agrees vaguely. He resists the urge to check his watch. He wonders if Merlin’s mum is working tonight.

Mithian’s hand squeezes his and she turns to him. Moonlight reflects off the water, shimmering on her face. She’s waiting for Arthur to kiss her, to move faster.

Pushing down the guilt rising in his stomach, Arthur brushes back her hair and leans in to her lips. Mostly, he’s concentrating on the pace as he kisses her in the moonlight, not the way her hair is soft, her skin warm to the touch. It feels like kissing his sister, not that Arthur has ever done that. The thought repels him, and he pulls away.

“What’s wrong?” Mithian asks as Arthur takes a step back.

“Nothing,” he says quickly. “Let’s walk some more.”

Mithian’s eyebrows furrow, but she takes the hand Arthur offers. Arthur hopes he never has that thought again.

*

It isn’t too late by the time Arthur drops Mithian off at her house with a quick kiss and all thoughts of kissing sisters firmly out of his head. Still, he doesn’t go straight home. Instead, he takes a detour, down past the church and to the row of identical brick house faces. It’s risky to be here, especially when he hasn’t even texted Merlin to see if he’s home, if he’s home alone.

At Merlin’s door, Arthur pauses. Glancing up, only one light is on - Merlin’s room. He pushes the bell before he can talk himself out of it and waits nervously, looking up and down the street, but it’s deserted. When no one answers the door, he pushes the bell again.

“Coming, I’m coming,” he hears behind the door as it’s pulled open and Merlin stands there, wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a tattered shirt with some band on it. “Arthur,” he says, sounding surprised.

“Hi,” Arthur says, stuffing his hands in his pockets and feeling exposed out on the steps. Luckily, Merlin steps aside to let him in a second later.

“What are you doing here?” Merlin asks, following him into the living room.

“I was just wandering around.” Arthur takes in the house, something he didn’t really bother to do the first. time. “Is your mum home?”

“She’s working,” Merlin replies, watching Arthur. “You had a date with Mithian, didn’t you?”

“How’d you know?” Arthur frowns, mostly because apparently everyone in the world knows what he does.

“Morgana.” Merlin shrugs and sits down on the couch. “She was complaining that Mithian’s too good for you.”

“Was she?” Arthur asks dully, joining Merlin. He picks at a thread and thinks that Morgana is probably right.

“Mhm,” Merlin hums. “She said that you should be dating someone more on your level.”

“Like who?” Arthur already knows what Morgana thinks of him - she’s not shy about giving him her opinions. 

“She said Vivian was a good match.”

“How flattering.”

“She also thinks you and Elena might make a nice couple. She said Elena would have more brains than both of you, which isn’t saying much.”

“And who does she think you should be dating?” Arthur asks, getting tired of hearing Morgana’s opinions. Moving over, he crawls over Merlin on the couch, settling between his legs and pushing his hair from his eyes.

“She thinks Lance would be nice.”

“Lance is straight,” Arthur points out. “And I’m fairly sure he’s got a thing for Gwen.”

Merlin nods. “Gwen blushes every time he so much as looks at her.”

Arthur knows that if Gwen and Lance got together, no one would think it was a big deal. Lance isn’t technically on the team anymore, and he’s always had the easy ability to fit in with lots of different groups. It isn’t a skill Arthur has mastered yet.

Arthur doesn’t want to talk about who he should or shouldn’t be dating, not when he’s got Merlin underneath him, pliant and open to him. Leaning down, he brushes his lips along Merlin’s neck. Merlin lets out a soft breath, eyes closing.

A few months ago, Arthur would never have pictured this happening. He never would have even imagined himself speaking to Merlin, let alone sliding his hands under his shirt, fingers splaying over his rib cage.

Now, he mouths along Merlin’s jaw, licking up to his lips and sucking on the cool, silver ring. Merlin kisses him back, mouths only halfway connected, but Arthur shifts to fit them together.

“When does your mum get home?” Arthur murmurs against Merlin’s mouth, rocking their hips together. For a second, Merlin’s only response is a soft moan.

“Night shift,” he finally replies, pulling Arthur down for a proper snog, licking into his mouth and biting at his lips. “Won’t be home till morning.”

It’s all Arthur needs to know, and he goes back to kissing Merlin until they’re both breathless and every movement of their hips makes Arthur’s cock throb. All thoughts of Mithian have left his head, any guilt vanishing with the sweep of Merlin’s tongue against his. When he finally pulls away, Merlin’s face is flushed, hair mussed, sticking up at odd angles.

Merlin squirms underneath him, pushing at his arms. “Upstairs,” he says, like he can only get out one word at a time. 

Arthur doesn’t need telling twice, and he climbs off of Merlin. Merlin clambers to his feet, unstable for a second, but he grabs Arthur’s wrist and they climb the stairs together. Arthur doesn’t think about what this is leading to, not when Merlin shuts the bedroom door behind them and yanks the curtains closed.

When Merlin comes back from the window, he pushes Arthur’s jacket off and tugs up his shirt. When Arthur is mostly naked except his boxers, Merlin takes off his own shirt and moves to the bed.

Arthur has only done this once, with a girl, and he doesn’t think he did it very well. Still, he kneels on the bed with Merlin and kisses him, tries to kiss away the nerves welling up inside him. 

“Have you done this before?” Merlin asks as they scoot back on the bed.

Arthur hesitates. “Er, well, not with a guy.”

Merlin nods like it’s the answer he expected. Arthur wants to ask if Merlin has, if anyone else has seen Merlin naked, opened him up and fucked him. He doesn’t ask, though, watching Merlin lean over and open a drawer in the nightstand. He pulls out a condom and lube, and Arthur wonders if he’s been expecting this to happen. 

He doesn’t ask that either, slipping in between Merlin’s legs. He has a vague idea of how it goes (he’s seen gay porn), but it’s entirely different in real life. Fumbling with his boxers, he gets them down and opens the condom. He knows this part.

“Here,” Merlin says, grabbing the lube and popping it open. He pours some in his hand and grabs Arthur’s, sliding it over his fingers. “Fingers first.”

“So you’ve done this a lot?” Arthur jokes instead of letting on how nervous he is.

“Not really,” Merlin replies quietly, but he bites his piercing and guides Arthur’s hand down. His underwear come off, and Arthur’s faced with Merlin’s cock, hot and hard against his stomach. It turns him on more than he expects, and he follows Merlin’s movement, guiding his fingers against his ass.

Merlin shifts his hips up as he guides Arthur. Arthur isn’t sure what he’s expecting as he pushes in a finger. The muscles are tight, hot and squeezing around his finger. He isn’t sure his prick will even fit, but Merlin makes a soft noise of encouragement. The second finger stretches him open even more.

“More,” Merlin breathes, fingers resting gently against Arthur’s wrist, but they close around it and force Arthur to push in deeper. “Right there, yeah.”

It’s all so surreal, but Arthur doesn’t get freaked out. Instead, he’s enthralled by the way Merlin responds to his touch, demands more when Arthur slows down too much. He likes the way Merlin’s chest swells with each breath, how his cock jumps when Arthur’s fingers brush against a muscle deep inside him.

“Oh,” Merlin groans, face flushed, and Arthur likes the way he looks, spread out, legs open, inviting Arthur in. 

Arthur doesn’t care if Merlin has done this before. He’s never done it with Arthur, and that’s what matters. Pulling out his fingers, Arthur slides in against him. He reaches for Merlin’s cock, giving it a few quick strokes before licking his lips and taking a deep breath.

Merlin’s ass is ready for him, and Arthur squeezes his cock first before he positions himself and pushes in. He doesn’t get very far before he has to stop at the new feeling filling him, hot and tight around his prick. He stops to gather himself and look at Merlin beneath him.

Merlin’s hands dig into the quilt, breaths shallow, but he doesn’t tell Arthur to stop.

“Merlin?” Arthur asks when he slides in another inch, gritting his teeth against the tight squeeze. It’s so much better than he ever remembers it with Vivian. 

“Keep going,” Merlin gasps, a deep flush running over his shoulder and onto his chest. 

Arthur takes a breath and pushes in all the way. It’s like an explosion of heat covering his entire body, and he has to stop, shuddering as he braces himself over Merlin. Merlin’s legs wrap around the back of his thighs, and he can feel Merlin wiggling underneath him, searching for the right angle.

Arthur kisses Merlin without thinking, swooping into his mouth and not pulling back until he curses under his breath.

“Move,” Merlin grunts, releasing the quilt and reaching for Arthur’s hips instead.

Arthur obeys, starting a stuttered rhythm that Merlin follows. Everything feels a million times better inside Merlin, Arthur decides. Every touch of Merlin’s fingers sets his skin on fire, every slide of his cock inside Merlin tightens his gut. He reaches for Merlin’s prick, jerking him off unevenly, unable to focus on both movements at the same time.

His hand, slick with lube, slides off Merlin’s cock, skimming up his stomach. Merlin takes up where he left off, groaning as he jerks himself off.

Arthur isn’t going to last long, not with his cock buried inside Merlin, and he gets in a few more thrusts before he comes. Release crashes over him, tension unraveling over his skin as his hips jerk.

Merlin’s hand keeps moving even after Arthur finishes, sucking in breaths, feeling lightheaded. All Arthur wants to do is collapse and never get up, but he doesn’t. He watches Merlin jerk himself off until he mutters, “Fuck!” and comes all over his stomach.

Arthur understands why Vivian complained it was messy now, but he doesn’t really care as he pulls out and collapses onto the bed. It was good, better than it had been with her. 

Lying there, he listens to Merlin’s breaths as they slow and finally return to normal after a few minutes. 

“Was that your first time?” he asks, unable to stop himself.

Merlin doesn’t meet his eyes at first, blinking tiredly at the ceiling. “With a person, yeah.”

Arthur is confused. “What does that mean?”

Merlin licks his lips and rolls over, rummaging under the bed and coming up with a dildo a little thinner and longer than Arthur’s cock.

Arthur laughs despite himself as Merlin hands it over.

“Meet my friend,” Merlin says without embarrassment. “How do you think I learned to give such good head?”

“I assumed practice,” Arthur says, turning the dildo over. His cock stirs interestedly. He rolls over to face Merlin, pressed halfway on top of him. “Maybe your friend can join us sometime.”

Merlin raises a surprised eyebrow and he smiles as he leans into Arthur’s mouth. “Maybe,” he murmurs, but for now, he takes it from Arthur’s hand and drops it over the edge of the bed as he kisses him. Arthur lets him, hand moving to Merlin’s jaw. There’s plenty of time for that later.

*

It’s difficult to hide his good mood, so Arthur tells people it’s because of Mithian, and she seems pleased with it. Really, it’s Merlin that makes him smile in the mornings and even ignore Morgana’s cutting words about about his teammates. She isn’t wrong about Valiant, after all.

Valiant, for his part, seems to have drawn in his grudge with Morgana for the time being, only making a few underhanded comments when she’s nearby. Arthur is glad for it. It makes his life a hell of a lot easier.

No one knows it’s Merlin that makes him feel stupidly happy when he comes into calculus class. Even Agrevaine can’t bring down his good mood today.

Lance isn’t there yet, but Arthur passes by Merlin on the way to his seat. Merlin doesn’t meet his eyes, but Arthur thinks he catches a small smile as Merlin rummages in his bag. Sliding into his chair, Arthur tries not to gaze at the back of Merlin’s head, but it’s become increasingly difficult. 

When Lance does enter the room, Arthur brushes a hand through his hair and sits up straight, intending to greet him as usual. Lance doesn’t come straight back, though, pausing at Merlin’s desk and pulling out a paper. He says something as he hands it over, and Merlin nods in reply.

“What was that?” Arthur asks when Lance takes his seat and hauls out his textbook.

“Just another essay.”

“About what?” Merlin hasn’t let Arthur see any of his essays, not that Arthur has asked, but maybe he wants to see them.

Lance shrugs. “It’s nothing.”

Arthur suspects otherwise, but he can’t argue or else Lance will suspect something. Swallowing the rest of his questions, he fiddles with his pen, tapping it against the desk. So much for his good mood.

*

It’s that time of year, Arthur thinks unpleasantly as he stares at the university brochures spread out on the table. Uther sits in the chair opposite, hands clasped. 

“Have you looked into Oxford? You’ll have to prepare for the interview,” Uther says seriously, plucking out the Oxford pamphlet. “It’ll be easier because I’m an alumnus, but they’ll want to accept you for your merit as well.”

Arthur feels a headache coming on, a dull throb in his temples. The application deadlines are looming. A few have already passed, he thinks. Oxford is on his list, but mostly out of requirement. 

“I’m not sure I want to go to Oxford,” Arthur says, interrupting Uther’s bits of advice on impressing the panel. 

Uther’s eyebrows furrow as he stares at Arthur. “Not go to Oxford?” he repeats. “That’s ridiculous, Arthur. Every Pendragon for the last hundred years has gone to Oxford. It’s the finest school in the country. Now, in preparation for the interview, it’s important to—”

“What if I want to go to St. Andrews, or Cambridge, or even Manchester!” Arthur interrupts, annoyed at Uther’s stark refusal to listen to him.

Uther’s eyes widen. “Perish the thought, Arthur! What has gotten into you? Oxford is the finest university, one of the best in the world. Everyone wants to attend. Now, let’s stop joking around. Have you filled out the application yet?”

Sighing, Arthur takes the pen Uther gives him and writes his name at the top of the form.

*

Arthur should have known the happiness wouldn’t last, and even with occasional snogging sessions with Merlin, it still doesn’t stop the rest of the world from turning. It’s been almost a month since he and Mithian started dating, and he knows she’s expecting him to make a move sooner or later, no matter how respectful she thinks he’s being.

“I think I have to sleep with Mithian,” he says, frowning at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to Merlin’s ceiling. They’re probably ages old and don’t glow anymore. 

Merlin props himself up on his elbow to gaze down at Arthur. “You’re not very good at pillow talk.”

“I’m serious,” Arthur says, rubbing his forehead. “She’s going to be expecting it. I can’t put it off forever if I have to keep dating her.”

“Then stop dating her,” Merlin points out like it’s the simplest solution in the world.

“Valiant is already suspicious enough,” Arthur replies. “If I break up with her, he’ll want to know why.”

“You’re the captain. Just tell him it’s none of his fucking business.” Merlin drags a finger through Arthur’s hair, brushing it back.

“Valiant won’t accept that. He’ll keep pushing until he gets an answer. You know, in some ways, he and Morgana really are perfect for each other.” He doesn’t really mean it, and he sighs. He wishes he could just break up with Mithian, maybe spare her some of the pain that’s sure to come. Situations like this never seem to end well. Arthur has just been hoping that maybe it would be different for him.

“Couldn’t you just tell her the truth?”

Arthur scoffs. “What? That I’m gay and I’ve been shagging you behind her back, betraying her trust and lying to her face?”

“Truth will out,” Merlin says simply, dropping his hand from Arthur’s hair. 

It’s not the most reassuring thing he could say and Arthur frowns. It’s easy for Merlin, who doesn’t have a reputation to uphold, a position to keep under control. If anyone finds out for Merlin, it will just mean annoying commentary from Morgana. Arthur has a lot more to lose.

“I have to do something,” Arthur mutters. “Mithian isn’t stupid.”

“No, she’s not,” Merlin agrees, rolling onto his back. 

Arthur lies there for a moment, trying to figure it out. He doesn’t want to sleep with Mithian, but he may have to to keep up appearances. 

“I guess I’ll have to do it,” he says finally, and when Merlin doesn’t respond, he turns towards him. “Merlin?”

Merlin chews on his lip ring, looking annoyed. “If you have to.”

“Merlin?” Arthur asks again because he doesn’t like the way Merlin said that.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Merlin replies, shrugging his shoulder. “If you want to sleep with her, then sleep with her. You are dating.”

“I don’t _want_ to. I _have_ to,” Arthur says, frowning at Merlin.

“Same difference. Sex is sex no matter why you’re doing it.”

“Are you mad?” Arthur asks, pushing himself onto his elbow. “The whole point of this is so no one will find out.”

“The whole point was that you started dating her to prove some kind of point to me or to yourself, I don’t know, and now it’s backfired,” Merlin says, sitting up and reaching for his shirt. “I didn’t agree to fake relationships and stupid jocks.”

Arthur can’t believe Merlin is upset about this. After all, they’d both wanted to keep it quiet. The best way to keep something a secret was to create a believable lie on top of it. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Arthur asks, though he knows it’s wrong the minute he says it. 

Merlin tosses him a glare as he yanks on his shirt. “I’m just tired of the whole Mithian problem. It was fine when it was just hooking up, but I’m pretty sure we’re past that. If you don’t want to hurt her, fine, but it’s getting pretty difficult to pretend there’s not an issue. I’m not saying I want to announce anything to the world, but I don’t want to just be what you do in your spare time.”

Arthur doesn’t even know what’s going on. They’ve agreed to keep it a secret and Mithian helps it stay that way, but Merlin is upset that Arthur is still dating her. Why? It isn’t like Arthur can just come out and tell everyone he’s with Merlin. Even if he and Mithian break up, it will still be a secret.

“So if I break up with her, then what?” Arthur asks as Merlin rolls off the bed and hunts for his jeans. “We’re still in the same place.”

“I just don’t understand her purpose,” Merlin says, struggling into his jeans.

Arthur sits on the bed, watching Merlin get dressed even though it’s Merlin’s house.

“You’re jealous,” he says finally as realization dawns on him. “You’re jealous of Mithian.”

“Please,” Merlin scoffs. “You’re the one using her as a cover to hide who you really are.”

“I’m confused,” Arthur says, standing up finally and pulling on his shirt. “You want me to break it off with her but you don’t want to tell anyone about us? Why would I bother breaking up with her then?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Merlin demands. “Why wouldn’t you when you can have your cake and eat it too?”

“You’re so jealous,” Arthur repeats, which only seems to make Merlin angrier. Merlin throws Arthur’s jeans at him and the zipper smacks him painfully in the face.

“Maybe I’ll just make things easier for you,” Merlin says, heading for the bedroom door while Arthur stands there, jeans in hand. “I think we should stop seeing each other.”

Arthur stares, taken aback. This is not how he wanted the evening to go. “Merlin,” he says, trying to reason with him, to convince him that the last thing he wants is to stop this. It’s the only thing that gets him through the day most of the time. 

“It’ll be easier for everyone,” Merlin says, eyes trained on the floor. “One less secret to keep. Besides, it’s time to start focusing on University.”

“Thought you didn’t want to go.”

Merlin shrugs. “Never said that.”

“Merlin, this is stupid,” Arthur says, pulling on his jeans finally. “There’s no reason we should stop hanging out. I like you and I want to keep seeing you.”

Merlin sighs and opens the door. “I know I wanted to keep this quiet, but I’m tired. I’m tired of watching you parade around with Mithian. I’m tired of lying to my friends. So let’s just end it and we won’t have to anymore.”

“You want to tell people?” Arthur doesn’t know what to think of that. Merlin had been in complete agreement to keep it a secret at the beginning, insistent even.

“I just want to be honest.”

Arthur’s chest seizes up at the thought of telling people, of the whole school knowing he’s been shagging Merlin, not because it’s Merlin but because of who Merlin hangs out with. Morgana and her friends are universally known as the freaks. His leadership will be called into question by Valiant, he just knows it. Valiant’s been after a way to take his captainship for a while. It’d be perfect ammunition. Losing the captain’s spot would look terrible on his Uni CV. He just can’t let it happen.

“I can’t,” Arthur says abruptly. “I can’t tell people.”

Merlin nods, biting his lip ring. “It’s better this way.”

“I guess so,” Arthur agrees, pulling on his shoes and grabbing his jacket. He passes by Merlin. He wants to stop and say something else, but there’s nothing left to say. Turning, he jogs down the stairs two at a time and leaves the house. As the door shuts behind him, he glances up to the light in Merlin’s window. After a few minutes, it shuts off. With a sinking pit in his stomach, Arthur tugs on his jacket and goes down the steps, dragging his heart along with him.

*

Outwardly, nothing changes. Arthur goes to practice, sits in class, holds hands with Mithian when they walk home together. Every actions seems empty, though. He knows why - it’s Merlin’s fault. When he and Vivian broke up, he’d moped, sure, but it hadn’t felt like this, like he was missing a part of himself. 

“Where’s your spring?” Lance asks as Arthur drags himself into class and slumps into his seat.

“My what?” Arthur isn’t really in the mood for riddles.

“The spring in your step. Last week, you were practically floating.”

Arthur grimaces. Of course Lance has noticed. No one else on the team has said anything all week, and Arthur’s not stupid enough to think he hides his emotions all that well.

“I think I’m coming down with something,” he lies, looking up as Merlin enters.

Merlin completely ignores him and takes his usual seat. 

“It’s winter,” Lance says knowledgeably. “Flu’s going ‘round.”

Arthur makes a vague noise of agreement. Of all his friends, Lance would be the most likely not to judge him about Merlin, but he can’t bring himself to say anything. There’s nothing to tell at this point anyway. He and Merlin have… stopped doing whatever they were doing. He’s free to date Mithian like he should.

The only problem is that he doesn’t want to date Mithian. She’s just the kind of girl Uther would approve of, and she’s not a ditz like some of the other girls in school. It would be so much easier if she was an airhead. Arthur wouldn’t feel bad. He would know she would get over it and not question why.

“Have you sent in your applications?” Lance asks while Arthur contemplates ways to break up with Mithian without her either hating him or uncovering his secret. “Some people are already starting to hear back.”

Arthur has only filled out a few applications but he has yet to send them. Which university he goes to is the least of his worries, although Uther would probably say it’s his only worry.

“I’ll get around to it,” he says because Lance expects a response. He doesn’t really feel like talking to anyone. 

He’s almost glad when Agrevaine strolls through the door and begins class. At least now, he can sink onto his books and watch the back of Merlin’s head, though Merlin never turns to meet his gaze.

*

“Is something wrong?” Mithian asks from across the sofa. They’re supposed to be studying, but Arthur suspects she was expecting something more than maths and takeaway. 

“Why would you ask that?” Arthur asks, shaking away the thoughts of Merlin that have been plaguing him all week. 

“You just seem distracted,” she says, closing her book and scooting over to sit closer. “Is it school?”

Arthur shakes his head. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“It is the team?” she asks, taking Arthur’s book from his hand and closing it as well. “I noticed Valiant’s been a bit more raucous than usual.”

Valiant has, in fact, been just as annoying as usual, but he seems to have bounced back from his last encounter with Morgana. Arthur just hopes he isn’t looking for a rematch.

“The team’s fine.”

Silence falls. It’s slightly awkward in a way it shouldn’t be for two people who’ve been dating for months. 

“Is it me?” she asks finally, hesitant.

“Of course not,” Arthur replies, sliding an arm around her shoulders. “You’re great.” It’s the truth, too much so. If she wasn’t so great, it would make things so much easier. He wouldn’t feel as guilty as he does.

Mithian smiles as she leans into his chest. “Good. For a moment there, I thought maybe you’d want to break up.”

Arthur’s stomach twists unpleasantly. “No,” he says, stroking down her hair. He can’t help the unpleasant feeling that washes over him as they sit there. What the hell is he going to do?

*

Arthur doesn’t know how, but life goes on, though the pit in his stomach never seems to go away. Every time he sees Merlin, it worsens until even thinking about him makes him feel sick. He doesn’t know why. It isn’t like he and Merlin could ever have been anything other than a secret hook-up. Even without Mithian in the picture, it would still be a secret.

Fall turns into winter which means bone-chilling rain and finger-numbing winds. It doesn’t help that the game with Mercia takes place on the coldest, wettest day so far. Arthur can barely see through the rain and he slips more than a few times in the mud. He tries to shout at Valiant as he runs past, but his voice is lost to the yelling crowd, the lucky bastards huddled under umbrellas and raincoats. Arthur is soaked to the bone and he can’t even see the score cards.

For the first time in his life, Arthur wishes he wasn’t on the field. He wishes he wasn’t the captain, the one who has to stay until the very end and buck everyone up when they trudge into the locker room, defeated in a score of two to one after hours of play. 

“Fuck!” Valiant curses loudly as they pile into the locker room. Arthur is just glad for the warmth and relative dryness - he’s not sure he’ll ever really be dry again.

“It was a good game,” Arthur says, pulling himself together for the team. He has to do it for the team even if all he wants is to shower and crawl into bed and forget the game (and the past few weeks really) ever happened. “Conditions weren’t in our favor.”

“It’s a fucking deluge,” Valiant snaps, slamming a fist against the lockers. They rattle, but no one bothers to argue with him or attempt to calm him down. They’re all frustrated, cold, tired. Arthur only responds because it’s his responsibility as captain.

“We’ll win next time,” he says, pulling off his jersey and staring in his locker unseeingly. Losing a match is bad enough. Losing and having to look on the bright side is even harder.

Valiant turns to him, an ugly expression on his face. “Maybe if you weren’t so fucking distracted, we might have played better.”

Arthur stills in taking off his cleats. After a second, he forces himself to move, slipping them off and straightening up to face Valiant.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Arthur,” Percy says from behind him, soft but warning. Arthur holds up a hand to Percy. 

“Come on, Valiant,” he says, hands rising to his hips. “What’s your problem this time?”

Arthur is cold and wet, and tired, and he doesn’t have the patience to deal with Valiant’s underhanded comments and insinuations.

Valiant doesn’t back down, and Arthur hadn’t expected him to. “You’re so busy trying to be the perfect boyfriend that you don’t even care about your own team,” he says. “You think you’re so much better because you’re dating Mithian, but the truth is you’re a shitty captain. You’d rather side with your crazy goth sister than your team.”

Blood boils under Arthur’s skin. It’s been a long few weeks, and despite what Valiant thinks, his distraction has little to do with Mithian or Morgana. He’s in no mood to give Valiant the benefit of the doubt, and that may be why he doesn’t even stop to think before he pulls back and punches Valiant in the face.

Percy takes a stuttering step towards Arthur even though Arthur has little intention of continuing. Valiant rears back up, but two guys have his arms in a deadlock, wrestling him away from Arthur. Arthur shakes his hand, wincing at the pain shooting through his knuckles. 

“You stay away from Morgana,” he warns Valiant, still struggling in Owen’s grip. “Or I’ll kick you off the team.”

Valiant spits at him, blood and saliva spraying the floor. “Fuck you, Pendragon,” he growls, yanking free of Owen, but he doesn’t come after Arthur. Arthur isn’t particularly worried. He can feel Percy looming behind him, a silent backup. 

Valiant slams his locker shut and muscles his way through the team without bothering to change. As he leaves, a collective sigh is released, but no one speaks as they change out of their uniforms.

Arthur’s hand throbs but he tries to ignore it as he gets dressed. He doesn’t punch people very often. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he did. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t feel better. If anything he feels worse because everyone’s going to think he did it out of defense of Mithian and Morgana. There’s some truth to it, but that’s not all of it. 

Arthur leaves before Percy can try to talk to him, walking home in the rain and nursing his bruised hand. Life just isn’t getting any better.

*

“Word on the street is you gave Valiant that black eye,” Morgana says Monday evening when she sweeps in well after curfew, or would if they had a curfew anyway. 

Arthur doesn’t want to talk about it. All day, whispers had run rampant around the school about Valiant’s black eye. None of the team had said anything to Arthur and Valiant had only thrown him threatening looks.

Morgana rounds the sofa and shoves Arthur’s feet off so she can sit.

“What do you want, Morgana?” he asks tiredly, lowering the book he’s trying to get through for English.

“Why would you hit someone on your team? A friend?”

“He’s hardly a friend,” Arthur mutters, pushing a hand through his hair. He immediately regrets it as Morgana seizes his hand and pulls it to her. His knuckles are a mottled black and purple, angry red around the edges. He yanks it back, but it’s too late.

“Why would you do that, Arthur?”

“Like you care,” he scoffs, snapping his book shut. “All you care about is your concerts and whatever piercing you’re getting next. You don’t care what people think about you.”

Morgana is silent for a moment, sitting up straighter. “I used to care what people thought,” she says after a long minute. “But then I realized that I don’t have to. All that matters is what I think of myself, and I like how I am. Can you say the same?”

Arthur frowns, and Morgana doesn’t stay to hear the answer. She heads upstairs while Arthur remains on the sofa, book forgotten in his lap. He honestly doesn’t know the answer to that question. Rubbing his hand, he sighs into the silence of the living room and sinks slowly into the couch.

*

As much as Arthur hates to admit it (and it’s a lot), Morgana is right. Still, it isn’t like Arthur runs off to announce to the whole team how he feels about Merlin. He doesn’t tell Uther that he has little intention of ever stepping foot onto Oxford soil. Life just doesn’t work like that for him. 

Instead, he keeps dating Mithian, even though he knows she knows something is off. He almost never initiates anything and they still haven’t had sex, even after three months. The guys on the team have mostly stopped asking because Arthur refuses to talk about it. If that’s not suspicious enough, he doesn’t know what is.

Despite Morgana’s ever-sharpened glance following him around at home and Valiant’s gaze at school, Arthur isn’t sure how much longer he can go on like this. The only conclusion he can come up with is to keep going. He’ll have to sleep with Mithian so he might as well get it over with. Maybe that will help convince everyone. Convince them of what? Arthur isn’t even sure anymore. He can’t even convince himself that he’s happy.

That might be why everything seems to deteriorate so rapidly after he punches Valiant. Somehow, word gets out, as it always does, that Arthur is the one who gave Valiant the black eye he sports for a week afterwards. Coach sits Arthur down for a serious talk before practice one day. Lance whispers to him during maths, trying to figure it out. Even Merlin gives Arthur more than a cursory glance across the lawn.

Arthur feels like he’s drowning, struggling to keep his head above the waves that crash into him every day. He’s suffocating and no one can help him.

It comes as no surprise that everything truly falls apart one chilly November afternoon, a week before December, the promise of holidays Arthur’s only salvation. 

The air smells like snow, cold and crisp, biting Arthur’s skin as he tugs his scarf tighter. He’s got an arm around Mithian, only half-listening her suggestion to get something to eat. It’s after school, people still streaming out of the front door behind them as they start across the lawn. They pass a few guys from the team, including Valiant, who glares at Arthur.

It’s pure coincidence that Arthur looks over at the tree where Morgana usually hangs out. She’s there, bundled up for once in a sleek black jacket that Uther probably bought for her as a peace offering. Gwaine sucks on a cigarette beside her. They look as if they’re waiting for someone.

He and Mithian aren’t too far away when Merlin bounds out of the school and towards the group, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, mobile clutched in his fingers. 

Arthur is paying absolutely no attention what what Mithian says, too busy watching Merlin. He can’t hear what he says, but Gwaine gets just as excited as Merlin in response. That’s when Gwaine grabs Merlin and plants a kiss right on his lips.

Something snaps in Arthur, the bit of restraint that’s keeping him from falling apart. He isn’t even consciously aware of letting go of Mithian, crossing the lawn, and shoving Gwaine away from Merlin. Multiple voices shriek, “Arthur!” behind him, but Arthur’s ears are ringing and his fist connects with Gwaine’s jaw in a burst of pain in his knuckles.

Gwaine stumbles back, clearly caught off-guard by Arthur’s attack. He falls but manages to catch himself with his hands on the wet grass. 

“Arthur, what the hell is wrong with you?” Morgana demands, but anger boils up in Arthur, anger at himself, at Valiant, at Merlin.

He glares at Gwaine, who has a hand to his jaw, still in disbelief. “Stay away from my boyfriend.”

“What the fuck, mate?” Gwaine asks, sounding both annoyed and confused. He doesn’t try to hit Arthur back, pushing himself upright.

Arthur doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. That’s two people he’s punched in less than a week. He doesn’t think he’s ever hit this many people in his life. Someone shoves him in the back, though, and he turns to find Merlin looming behind him, glaring. Merlin has never seems particularly intimidating before, and even now, with his skinny jeans and ugly scarf, he doesn’t scare Arthur. Something in his eyes sends a shiver through Arthur, though.

“First of all,” Merlin says, shoving Arthur’s shoulder again, hard and painful. “I’m not your boyfriend. And second of all, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

As Arthur stares at Merlin, the realization hits him all at once. They’re not alone - they’re far from being alone. Mithian is there, and Lance, Percy, Valiant, _Morgana_. Shit. A rock settles deep in his stomach and Arthur doesn’t look at the faces he knows are there. He can only see Merlin and Morgana, who watches like a hawk.

He opens his mouth to speak but no words come out. What has he done?

Merlin takes the silence to draw himself up before Arthur. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Arthur, and I don’t care.”

It hurts more than Arthur expects. He’s used to people not caring - Uther only shows interest when it’s something he’s invested in. The team only cares when he’s helping them win. Morgana only bothers to talk to him when it’s beneficial for her.

Merlin turns from Arthur, stalking away. For a second, it’s just Arthur and Morgana and Gwaine, but Gwaine follows Merlin, still rubbing his jaw. Morgana stares at Arthur for a long moment, silence stretching between them until she, too, turns and follows Merlin.

Arthur’s left alone in the damp courtyard, onlookers gathering in number to see what the fuss is. Looking up, Arthur sees Mithian, her face pale, lips tight. Before he can say anything, she turns and hurries off.

“Mithian!” he calls, spurred to action, following after.

The crowd doesn’t part to let him through, clearly on her side, and Arthur doesn’t blame them except that it means he has to push past too many people to get free.

For a moment, he can’t see her, but she can’t have gone too far. He heads in the direction of her house. Maybe he’ll be able to catch her. He hurries down the street, heart pounding along with his feet on the pavement. He’s ruined everything. There’s no way out of it now. Merlin hates him. Mithian hates him. The team knows. His life is over.

Arthur isn’t expecting to find Mithian sitting on her front step, but she is. Her arms are wrapped around herself, knees tucked close to her body. She doesn’t look up as Arthur slows, hair falling in a cascade towards the ground.

Arthur has no idea what to say, if there’s anything he can say that will make this better. For a moment, he lingers awkwardly at the foot of the stairs, shivering in the cold that does nothing to soothe the pain in his hand. Gwaine’s jaw must be made out of cement.

“I guess I should have known,” Mithian says at long last, raising her eyes to Arthur’s. Though her face is pale, she doesn’t look as if she’s been crying. “You never wanted to kiss me. I thought you were just being nice.” She laughs once and then sighs.

God, Arthur feels terrible, more terrible than he has before in his life. A part of him had always known this would happen, but he’d done it anyway. He wonders if he has any friends to his name anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he says because it’s all he can think to say. It seems so utterly inadequate. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

Mithian’s eyebrows furrow as she watches him. “What did you expect to do? To go out with me even though you liked someone else? Even though that person was a guy? To pretend that everything was fine forever?”

Arthur shifts his weight uncomfortably. “I was trying to just be normal.”

Mithian shakes her head, a cold breath of air puffing before her as she exhales. “I don’t want to date someone who doesn’t want to date me. You _lied_ to me.”

“I know,” Arthur says, grimacing. “It was terrible. I was terrible. I kept hoping that things would get better, that I’d stop thinking about him, that I could forget about what happened.”

“What happened?”

Arthur sighs. It isn’t something he wants to relive, not when Merlin’s words keep filtering through his mind. 

_I don’t care_.

“I was stupid.” He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. “And it doesn’t even matter because now everyone knows.”

Mithian doesn’t reply to that. She probably agrees with him on the stupid part. Arthur can’t believe he’s messed up so badly. 

It takes a long time before Mithian says anything, long enough that Arthur’s fingers start to go numb, even stuck deep inside his pockets. He’s thinking he should just go home and revel in his misery when she shifts, hugging her knees and frowning at the sidewalk.

“I’m so angry at you,” she says quietly. “I’m angry at you for lying to me. I’m angry at myself for not seeing it.”

“It’s not your fault,” Arthur says, sitting down next to her but hesitating to touch her. “I was a royal prat. I deserve to be hated.”

She sighs. “I don’t hate you. I just don’t understand why you couldn’t have been honest. Did you think I would tell everyone? Did you think I would be that cruel?”

“No,” Arthur says, shaking his head. “At first, I asked you out because I thought it could be fun, but there was Merlin, and then I couldn’t figure out how to end it without everyone finding out. Guess I shot myself in the foot with that one.”

Mithian makes an agreeing noise. “You’ll be lucky if the groundskeeper hasn’t heard by tomorrow.”

Arthur almost smiles. He doesn’t feel much better, though. He watches her for a moment. “I’m really really sorry,” he says. It’s all he has. Excuses don’t make things okay. 

“I haven’t forgiven you,” she says, rubbing her hands on her jeans. Arthur’s stomach sinks. “But I might. In time.”

Arthur doesn’t reply as she stands and climbs the stairs. He rises as well, rocking on his cold feet. At the door, Mithian pauses.

“If you don’t apologize to Merlin next, it’ll take a lot longer to forgive you.”

As the door shuts behind her, Arthur shivers in the cold. Turning, he heads down the empty street towards home. He isn’t sure Merlin wants to hear anything he has to say right now, and he doesn’t blame him in the least.

*

Arthur should be doing homework, but it’s been possibly one of the worst days of his life, so he lets it sit in his bag and watches TV instead. Uther isn’t home - the one upside of the day - and Morgana hasn’t been home at all since Arthur got there.

It’s only a matter of time before his tiny bit of good luck runs out, and Arthur jumps when Morgana slams his door open.

“Jesus Christ!” he curses as she strides in, hands on her hips.

“Oh, he’s not going to help you,” she says, coming to the foot of Arthur’s bed and blocking the television.

Sighing, Arthur isn’t ready for this conversation, not with Morgana of all people. “Can we just skip the fight, Morgana? You think I’m an insensitive boor who should throw himself into a pit of scorpions and be eaten alive.”

“I was going to say jaguars, but scorpions are fine,” she says, flipping her hair back haughtily. Her facade drops a second later, though, and she shakes her head. “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Arthur doesn’t meet her eyes.

“Lying to everyone, stringing Merlin along, punching Gwaine.”

“He deserved it.”

“He most certainly did not,” Morgana snaps. “You acted completely out of line, and if Merlin hadn’t explained a few things, I would have thought you’d gone mad.”

Groaning, Arthur presses a hand to his face. “How about we just skip to the part where you accuse me of being like father and leave me alone? We all know that’s exactly how I’m going to end up. Sad, obsessed with work, and utterly alone.”

He doesn’t lift his hand to see if Morgana has left, but he knows she hasn’t. He doesn’t want to have this conversation. He doesn’t want to be reminded that he’s just like Uther, that he can’t sustain a relationship with anything other than sports. He isn’t sure he’s doing too well there either. He dreads tomorrow, facing the team. It’s going to be hell.

“I’m not here for your pity party,” Morgana says, and Arthur pushes himself up into a sitting position.

“It’s not pity if it’s the truth, right?” he says bluntly. “You always say it so we might as well just accept it. I don’t know how to be with anyone. I hide who I am because I’m afraid of what people think. I’m so unhappy.”

He can’t help the choked feeling rising in his throat as he says it. Shaking his head, he blinks away tears forming in his eyes. He never admits it, but he’s so deeply unhappy with his life and he doesn’t even know where to begin to fix it.

“So, please, Morgana, just once, leave me alone.”

He can see her out of his periphery. For a moment, she doesn’t move or speak, but she heads to the door eventually. She hesitates there, but she doesn’t speak, and closes it behind her. Lying back down on the bed, Arthur sighs. He just wants to forget this day ever happened.

*

If Arthur is expecting anything other than awkwardness at school, he’s not disappointed. Half the students he passes start whispering behind their hands and the other half completely ignore him. He prefers the ones that ignore him. He doesn’t see Merlin anywhere all morning until maths class.

Slinking to his seat, Arthur tries to ignore the whispers following him. Hold your head high, Uther always says, no matter what scandal befalls you. Arthur wonders how many scandals Uther has had in the past. Probably nothing like this.

When Lances takes his seat, even he hesitates a moment before speaking to Arthur.

“How are you?” he asks, and Arthur wants to laugh. He wants to but he doesn’t.

“Fairly sure this is the worst week of my life.”

“Even worse than the ‘Morgana is your half-sister’ bomb?”

Arthur pauses. “It’s a tie. At least then, it wasn’t my fault.” He’s glad Lance isn’t making a big deal out of this. He needs someone levelheaded. Someone rational. Someone who won’t turn his back because of what he did.

“Don’t worry,” Lance says simply. “It’ll get better.”

Arthur isn’t sure Lance even knows all that’s going on really, but he appreciates it just the same.

Merlin enters the class then, sliding into his seat and not looking at Arthur at all. It makes Arthur’s stomach twist unpleasantly. Merlin must really hate him. He outed their secret and punched his friend all at the same time. He is a complete idiot.

The rest of class, Arthur spends it thinking of ways to apologize to Merlin like Mithian suggested. Nothing he thinks of is good enough, big enough, meaningful enough to express how he feels or make up for what he did. 

“Hey,” Lance says when Agrevaine dismisses them and they head to lunch. Merlin ducks ahead and disappears amongst the crowd. “I could talk to Gwen, see if she knows anything.”

Arthur shakes his head. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” He doubts anything Gwen would say would be in his favor. 

In the cafeteria, Arthur can’t help his gaze straying to the table in the corner where Merlin sits huddled with Gwaine and Morgana. It’s too cold for them to eat outside these days. It doesn’t help Arthur at all, except to feel exceptionally bad as he crosses to the team’s table on the other side.

Before he even gets all the way there, Valiant steps in front of him, an imposing form. They’re far enough away from the table that if Valiant tries anything, it’ll take Percy and the others more than a few steps to reach them. Perhaps that’s why Valiant stops him there, a triumphant glimmer in his eyes, as though he’s won something important.

“I knew it, Pendragon,” he says, tone pompous, and it grates on Arthur. “I knew you were nothing more than a big queer.”

It isn’t the name so much that riles Arthur but the way Valiant says it, like he’s got one over on Arthur, like he and he alone has discovered Arthur’s secret - not like the entire school knows or anything. It’s quite clear to everyone involved that he’s gay, and Arthur suspects that if Percy were near enough to hear, he’d have a few choice words for Valiant.

As it is, Percy is sitting at the table, an attentive eye turned towards them, but too far to hear. 

“You found out my secret,” Arthur says, annoyed. He’s hardly in the mood to be civil towards Valiant. “Congratulations.”

Valiant sneers at him, teeth bared. “You’re not fit to be captain. You should be on your knees, begging to stay on the team. Nobody’s gonna want a queer football player on their team.”

Despite the anger boiling on the surface, a tiny part of Arthur fears he’s right. There’s Percy, but Percy isn’t the captain. Percy doesn’t have people looking to him for leadership. Percy doesn’t plan on playing football professionally, or even at university.

Lance’s hand on Arthur’s arm brings him out of his thoughts. Valiant’s trying to get a rise out of him. That’s all he’s doing. Arthur just has to walk away.

As he turns to leave, Valiant takes a step forward. 

“And with that emo goth kid, of all people,” he says loudly. “Never thought you’d sink lower than your own sister.”

Arthur knows what Valiant is trying to do, but it’s the straw that breaks the camels back. Swinging around, he’s caught off-guard by Valiant, who is ready for him this time. Valiant’s hand lands a punch to his gut, knocking air out of his lungs. His own arm swings upward, catching Valiant in the jaw, probably adding another black eye to match the first. 

Arthur’s legs are pulled out from under him as Valiant launches himself at him. Around them, everyone in the cafeteria rises to their feet, cheers and shouts rising as they grapple. Arthur gets a knee in his stomach, knuckles slamming into his nose and wet, gooey blood streams down his chin. He gets his revenge with a foot on Valiant’s leg, screwing down his weight.

Everyone shouts around them, the din rising to the ceilings. Arthur can’t see anything but the blurred form of Valiant right before him, hands grabbing and punching wherever they can reach. He gets another fist in his ribs before arms seize him and yank him backwards. Someone has Valiant too, struggling to keep him back.

His shirt is soaked in blood and he doesn’t take the napkin someone shoves at him, but then Lance is there, pressing it to his face to stop the bleeding from his nose.

“Hold that,” Lance says, but Arthur’s hands are shaking and he pants for breath as Lance drags him out of the cafeteria, away from where Valiant is scrabbling in Percy’s deadlock. From the glimpse Arthur gets, his one bit of satisfaction is that Valiant’s eye has already ballooned and a bruise has started to purple on his skin.

*

There’s absolute silence across the dinner table except the occasional clink of silverware. Even Morgana has kept quiet as they eat the chicken. Arthur presses the ice pack to his eye and nose occasionally, stirring his food listlessly. Uther glances up at intervals, mouth twitching like he’s trying to figure out just how to punish Arthur.

At long last, he sets his fork down with a resounding clink and sets both hands on the table. 

“What were you thinking, Arthur?” he asks seriously. “Getting in a fight with a teammate? You broke your nose.” He says it as though Arthur isn’t aware of the throbbing pain in his nose every time he swallows or tries to speak.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, cutting his boiled carrots into tiny pieces with his fork. 

“It’s hardly nothing,” Uther scoffs. “What has gotten into you lately?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur says angrily, looking up from his plate. “Maybe I’m just tired of being what everybody wants me to be.”

“What are you talking about?” Uther asks, as though he’s frustrated with Arthur. Frustrated with Arthur? He’s not even around enough to notice when things do change.

“I don’t want to go to Oxford,” Arthur says bluntly, setting down his fork. “I want to go somewhere else. I don’t know where, but not Oxford. I want to be my own person.”

Uther is silent for a moment, puzzling for a moment. “If you’re doing this to get attention, Arthur,” he says at length, and Arthur barely holds back his groan. “I’ll tell you this teenage rebellion has come at a most inopportune moment.”

“It’s not rebellion!” Arthur argues. He can’t believe he even has to explain it, that Uther doesn’t get it. “I don’t want to be who you want me to be. I don’t want to run the company straight out of university. I want to travel and meet people and see what’s out there.”

“A gap year,” Uther supplies. “It’s perfectly normal.”

“No.” Arthur shakes his head, frustrated. “I want to go to Uni, but one that I choose. I want to travel but when I want.”

Uther’s gaze darkens as he finally realizes what Arthur is saying. “You don’t get to choose everything in life,” he says. “My father, and his father, and every father before him, has worked for the Pendragon Corporation. They’ve all gone to Oxford and they’ve all done very well in the paths laid out for them. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Maybe that was what they wanted, but it’s not what I want.” Arthur doesn’t know how to get through to Uther.

“Life isn’t about what you want,” Uther says, face becoming redder. “It’s about what’s best for your family. I don’t want to hear another word about it. Tomorrow, you’ll apologize to this Valiant lad and do whatever you have to to remain captain.”

Arthur stares as Uther picks up his fork again and stabs a carrot. He glances at Morgana, but she’s unusually silent, glancing between them. Of course, it’s a miracle she’s home at all. Arthur shouldn’t expect any help from her.

“I’m not apologizing,” Arthur says stubbornly, watching Uther lift his head, a deep frown etched into his mouth. “He called me queer.”

Uther’s eyebrows furrow. “That’s no reason to hit him.”

“He said no one wants a queer captain,” Arthur goes on, rising from the table. “And he’s right. I’m gay and I won’t be captain anymore.”

If Arthur was anything other than furious, it might be comical, the way Uther’s mouth drops open and he stares. 

Arthur tosses down his napkin and leaves the table to the stunned silence that follows. Arthur’s tired of lying to himself, lying to everyone else. Football is all he has left, but if it means finally feeling free, he’ll give it up. He doesn’t think he could stand to look at Valiant in practice every day anyway. It’ll be better this way, he tries to convince himself as he trudges up the stairs and locks himself in his room. Better for everyone.

*

Valiant isn’t in school the next day, for which Arthur is eternally grateful. He’s sure Valiant can’t look any worse than Arthur does with two black eyes and a bruised nose. He’s got a large bruise spreading across his ribs and sitting hurts, as does standing and moving. 

Most people give him a wide berth in school, keeping their whispers to a minimum this time. They’re probably afraid he’ll haul off and punch them if they talk too loudly. It’s tempting, but Arthur thinks he’s had more than enough violence lately. It never solves anything anyway.

At lunchtime, Arthur doesn’t go to the cafeteria. He ducks away from Lance with an excuse of visiting the nurse for more ice, but instead, he heads to the library where he knows it’ll be quiet.

Gaius gives him another suspicious look as he enters, but Arthur ignores him. He manages to avoid talking to almost everyone the whole day, much to his relief. He doesn’t want to face Percy and the others who probably think he’s gone off the deep end. 

After school, he has football practice, but he doesn’t go. He’ll have to talk to the coach soon enough, officially resign as captain, but at the moment, he can’t bear to go near the gymnasium. 

As Arthur walks home, since he has nowhere else to go anymore, he wonders if life will ever get better. He’s lost his friends, his team, Merlin, everything. The only thing left is university, and he doesn’t even know where he wants to go or if Uther will ever back down on Oxford.

Uther isn’t home when he gets there, and there’s a vague message in his voicemail about working late. He just doesn’t want to be home with Arthur, Arthur suspects. Still, he’s glad for the silence as he sinks into the couch and turns on the television. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes as he watches episode after episode of mindless television, but the sky darkens, as does the room, until Arthur considers eating so he doesn’t starve himself to death. The kitchen is so far away, though, and his mobile is across the room in his bag. It takes him several moments to convince himself to get up, and several more to actually do it.

When he finally pushes himself off the sofa, a knock comes at the door. Sighing, Arthur drags himself to the foyer and pulls open the door. He’s surprised to find Percy and Owen on his doorstep.

“What are you doing?” he asks brainlessly, staring at the pair of them.

“Why weren’t you at practice?” Percy asks, and Arthur sighs. 

“I figured it’d just be easier if I left the team,” he says, taking a step back, and Percy pushes past him into the house. Arthur hadn’t meant it to be an invitation, but Owen follows and he’s obliged to shut the door against the cutting wind.

“Why the hell would you want to leave the team?” Owen asks obviously. “You’re the best player and you’re the captain.”

Arthur frowns. “I haven’t been the best captain lately. I lied to everyone and caused so much trouble.”

“Valiant’s a dick,” Percy says bluntly. “Always has been. He’s just finally got what’s coming to him.”

Arthur pauses, running a hand through his hair. “I appreciate if you’re trying to make me feel better about what happened, but the truth is that I’ve been a lousy captain this year and the team deserves better.”

“The team doesn’t want better!” Owen says then grimaces.

“What he means is that you’re the best captain,” Percy says. “The team doesn’t care if you’re gay. We don’t care that you punched Valiant. The bastard deserved it. Without you, the team will fall apart.”

Arthur shakes his head. He can’t just go back to being captain, to pretending his life is the same as it was before. Everything’s changed.

“It isn’t that simple.”

“Sure it is,” Percy says, laying a large hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Come back to the team. You don’t have to turn your back on your friends. We didn’t turn ours on you.”

Arthur wants it to be this easy to fix things, and he realizes as he stands there that it can be. His whole life doesn’t have to crumble because of one mistake. He’s still the captain and his teammates may think he’s gone on a bit, but they’re still teammates.

Relief washes over him at the thought. He’s not completely alone.

“You’re right,” he says finally, and even Percy seems relieved. “I shouldn’t leave you guys like that.”

“Good.” Percy claps his shoulder hard. “Because Coach is royally pissed you didn’t show today.”

Arthur actually smiles. He’ll be running laps for that until January, but it’s nice to know Coach isn’t too upset. Percy and Owen leave not long after with a promise from Arthur that he will show up to practice tomorrow. As Arthur shuts the door behind them, he feels like a weight has been lifted. Not everything has been fixed, but it’s nice to know he isn’t as alone as he thought. Now, there’s just one last thing to rectify, or attempt anyway, because Arthur isn’t sure Merlin will want to talk to him, let alone accept an apology. Still, he has to do it and hope for the best. Arthur’s never been very good at being optimistic, but he’ll try for Merlin and for himself.

*

Arthur doesn’t want to talk to Merlin at school, not with how things went the last time they had a conversation, so he waits a couple days while his stomach twists itself into knots. On the third day, Arthur can’t wait any longer, so he goes to Merlin’s house after practice. Standing on the front step, he forces down the nerves rising in him.

The door opens and, to Arthur’s surprise, a woman stands there, tall and thin like Merlin with stringy brown hair.

“Hello,” she greets him pleasantly, as if she finds boys on her porch all the time.

“Er, hi,” he says, shaking himself out of the surprise. “Is Merlin in?”

“You must be one of his school friends,” she says, looking him up and down. “Though not his normal friend.” She turns into the house. “Merlin! There’s someone here to see you!”

Arthur lingers awkwardly for a moment until she steps back to let him in.

“Who is it?” Merlin asks, jumping down the stairs, but he comes up short as he sees Arthur.

Merlin’s mother smiles. “A friend from school. Well, I’m off. The sick won’t nurse themselves!” She grabs her coat and pats Arthur’s shoulder. “It’s nice to meet you, dear.”

Arthur doesn’t know what to say as she leaves, the door shutting behind her, leaving he and Merlin alone.

“Your mum seems nice,” he says when he turns back to Merlin.

Merlin frowns. “What are you doing here?”

Arthur expected as much hostility, and he’s not naive enough to expect anything else.

“I just came by to apologize,” he says. He’s been doing a lot of apologizing lately, something he’s not really used to. “I handled things badly, terribly actually. I hurt you and other people, everyone. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I wanted to say it anyway.”

It’s pitiful. Even Arthur thinks so, but he’s terrible at this sort of thing. Uther always says, never apologize, which means Arthur can’t figure out more than a few words at a time. 

Merlin doesn’t reply. It’s about what Arthur expected.

After a moment, Arthur reaches for the door. There’s nothing more he can do. Merlin deserves more than excuses. He can’t excuse what he did. He can’t take the easy way out.

As he pulls open the door and a blast of cold air hits him, Merlin speaks.

“Morgana says you came out to your father.”

Arthur hesitates, glancing back. Merlin hasn’t moved, crossing his arms and standing in the front hall. He shuts the door quietly.

“He didn’t take it very well,” he says, turning to face Merlin. It’s too much to hope that Merlin might forgive him. “He especially hated the part when I said I wasn’t going to Oxford.”

“Do you think he’ll forgive you?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur says slowly. “I hope so. I am his only son.” He tries to smile but he can’t quite bring himself to.

“I also heard you quit the football team,” Merlin says, lifting his gaze to Arthur’s.

“I tried,” Arthur admits. “But Coach wouldn’t let me. They kicked Valiant off, though, for unsportsmanlike behavior.”

“You punched him,” Merlin points out. “Twice.”

“Coach said he provoked me, plus he’s a bad sport in general. It looks bad for the team.” Arthur isn’t sure why they’re talking about football or Valiant. He’s much more interested in Merlin accepting his apology. “Merlin, there’s no excuse for what I did. I punched Gwaine out of stupid jealousy. I dated Mithian because I was scared. I took you for granted. I’m sorry.”

Merlin frowns, chewing on his lip ring. “Did Mithian forgive you?”

“Not yet. But I think she might.”

“It’s too bad you’re not straight. You guys would make a great couple,” Merlin mutters, and Arthur’s stomach sinks.

“Except I’m not, and there’s the fact that I like you.” It sounds cheesy even as he says it, and Arthur grimaces. 

Merlin doesn’t react except to drop his arms and brush his hair across his eyes. Arthur suspects it’s a nervous gesture. 

“Well,” Arthur says at length when Merlin doesn’t speak. “I just wanted to come tell you that, and I hope maybe, at some point, you’ll accept my apology.”

He doesn’t hesitate this time as he pulls open the door and steps outside. The door shuts behind him and he stands on the step, shivering and glancing up at the cloudy sky. It’s all he can do. It’s up to fate now. Arthur isn’t even sure he believes in fate or destiny, but it’s all he’s got to hold onto.

As he takes a step down, the door behind him is wrenched open and Merlin stands there.

“Arthur, wait,” he says, and as Arthur turns, Merlin pulls him into a kiss. Arthur isn’t expecting it, and he only stares when Merlin moves back.

“Merlin?” he asks, dazed. His breath puffs in a cloud before him.

Merlin swallows, licking his lips and taking a breath. “You admit that you were a complete prat?”

Arthur nods. “Completely.”

“And everyone knows you’re out?”

“Everyone who saw me humiliate myself by yelling at Gwaine, plus everyone they told.”

Merlin nods, and Arthur thinks he sees a smile. A bubble of hope grows in his chest at the sight.

“And you’re not going to be a jealous sod?”

Arthur can’t believe what’s happening. “I can’t guarantee that. Though it would probably be a lot easier if other people didn’t kiss you.”

“They won’t,” Merlin says firmly. “But even if they do, you don’t have the right to punch them. Only I do.”

“Right,” Arthur agrees. “You’re right.”

Merlin pauses and then smiles. “Good.”

He kisses Arthur again, hands buried in his jacket, cold lips pressing together. The bubble in Arthur’s chest explodes with glee as he pulls Merlin closer, hands gripping his back. He’s the luckiest bloke alive, he concludes as Merlin glides his tongue along his lower lip and moves away.

“Let’s go inside,” he says softly, pushing the door open. Arthur follows, keeping a hand on Merlin’s shirt.

“Why did Gwaine kiss you anyway?” he asks once they’re back in the warmth and Merlin steps up to him.

“I got into art school,” he says with a small smile.

“That’s brilliant!” Arthur grins and hugs Merlin. 

“Lance helped with my essays,” Merlin says, “and I got early admission.”

“That’s fantastic,” Arthur says, pushing Merlin’s hair out of his eyes. “Maybe you can help with my essays. You know, once I decide where I want to apply.”

“As long as it’s not Oxford, I think you’ll be fine,” Merlin says, and Arthur laughs. 

“As long as I manage not to screw things up, I think it’ll be fine too.”

Merlin tilts his head to the side and smiles. “We’ll work on that.”

Arthur kisses him again, arms wrapping around Merlin’s back. Things may not have been perfect, but they’re certainly looking up, and right now, that’s all that matters.

*

FIN.


End file.
